


Harry Potter and the Boy Who Got Away

by DollhouseDancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollhouseDancer/pseuds/DollhouseDancer
Summary: It's July 20th and Harry is stuck at the Dursley's house. Who should appear but Albus Dumbledore, bringing along the most unlikely companion imaginable.This story re-imagines the events of the Half-Blood Prince and the Deathly Hallows with one key difference- Draco Malfoy has made a decision that will affect not only his own life, but the lives of Harry and his friends as they join together in the fight against evil.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter lay on his bed in number 4, Privet Drive feeling very cross. It was July the 20th and Sirius Black, the only man who had ever loved him like a father, was dead. He had been at the Dursley’s for three weeks and had received almost no owls from any of his friends. To make matters worse the weather had been dismal all week, and as it was currently raining he was trapped inside with all three of the Dursleys, who had banished him to his room while they watched the telly.

Harry sighed and hauled himself to his feet. He shuffled towards his open school trunk. He might as well read the first chapter of Hogwarts: A History. At least it would make Hermione happy. He sifted through the robes, quills and parchment until he found the book. Straightening up, he tossed it on his bed. He wanted to get a snack first.   
  
The first step creaked as Harry put his weight on it. He heard someone shift in their seat below. “That you boy?” Uncle Vernon’s rough voice called out. “Don’t you come bothering us in here.”

“Just getting a snack,” Harry mumbled back. He hurried down the rest of the stairs.

It was as Harry’s foot touched the floor at the foot of the stairs that it happened: the doorbell rang. A chair scraped in the living room as Aunt Petunia muttered, “Who could that be on a day like this?” Harry heard her footsteps approaching as he turned the doorknob.

As Harry pulled the door open he nearly fell over from surprise. In front of him stood none other than Dumbledore, wearing a long purple robe and a black pointed hat. He could not have looked more out of place.

Harry heard a gasp from behind him as Aunt Petunia came around the corner.

“You!” The woman’s voice quivered with shock and rage. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, “You are always so straight to the point Petunia. As it seems unlikely that you shall invite us in, I am afraid that we will have to intrude. It does not seem prudent for us to remain out of doors while we speak about the matters at hand.”

At the mention of the word ‘we’ Harry realized that there was someone standing behind Dumbledore. In fact, that someone seemed to be hiding behind the Headmaster, using his billowing robes as a sort of shield. As the wizard stepped into the narrow hallway the figure behind him came into view.

It was Draco Malfoy.

“What is he doing here?” Harry demanded.

“That, my boy, is one of the reasons that I have come to visit you on this rather soggy day,” Dumbledore answered calmly. “Now, I believe it would be best for all of us if we could sit down. Perhaps in the living room?”

By this time Dudley and Uncle Vernon had come into the hallway as well. Between the Dursleys, Harry, Dumbledore and Malfoy, it was quickly becoming very crowded.

“What is the meaning of this? Bellowed Uncle Vernon, “I will not be having people like you invading my house!”

“Upstairs,” Aunt Petunia ordered Dudley. Looking frightened, the large boy scurried up the stairs and around the corner. There was a distant bang as his door slammed shut.

Dumbledore pushed through the Dursleys and into the living room. “Petunia, Vernon, Harry, please come sit,” he invited. “Draco, do you mind waiting in the hall for just a moment?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia trailed behind the headmaster, rather peeved to be invited to sit in their own home. Harry cast a furious glance at Malfoy before following. He shut the door firmly behind him.

Inside the living room was a curious sight. Dumbledore appeared to have conjured a bottle of mead and several glasses out of thin air. He sipped contentedly from one glass. Across the room, two glasses hung in the air, repeatedly rapping the Dursleys on their heads as they resolutely refused to acknowledge their existence. A fourth glass floated towards Harry as he took a seat.

“Now,” began Dumbledore, “Our first order of business is that of the will of Sirius Black.”

Uncle Vernon started in his seat. “His godfather is dead?” Harry shot his uncle a dirty look.

“In his will Sirius specified that all of his belongings should go to you, Harry. This means, of course, that you add a sizeable amount of gold to your vault at Gringott’s-” At the mention of gold Uncle Vernon let out a small gasp. Knowing their proclivity for greed, Harry had never told his aunt and uncle about the small fortune left to him by his parents. Dumbledore continued. “Also, the hippogriff Buckbeak now belongs to you. He is currently residing at Hogwarts with Hagrid, under the name of Witherwings. If you wish he can be moved from there.”

“No,” said Harry, “He should stay there. I’m sure Hagrid is happy to see him again.”

A smile spread across Dumbledore’s face. “He is indeed. Well, that brings us to the house. In his will Sirius left number 12 Grimmauld Place to you. However, there may be a slight snag with this area of the inheritance. You see, the house has been in the Black family for many generations, passing from father to eldest son. As Sirius was the last male descendant of the Black family, it should belong to whomever he bequeathed it to. However, there is a slight chance that, due to old enchantments, it could have passed instead to the closest remaining relative of the Black family, in this case, Bellatrix Lestrange. If so it would be incredibly dangerous for you to return there. Thankfully, there is an easy test as to the house’s true ownership.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore and took another sip of his mead. It was warm and sweet. “What is it?” He asked the elder wizard.

“If the ownership of the house has indeed passed to you, then so has the house-elf known as Kreacher. I propose that you test your ownership by calling upon him. If he fails to appear, then we shall   
know that the house has indeed failed to pass into your possession.”

Harry nodded his head. “What do I do?” He asked. “Just call out, ‘Kreacher’?”

There was a loud pop as the small, filthy figure appeared in the center of the room. He glowered at Harry, muttering under his breath.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, “Then that settles it. Number 12 Grimmauld Place, as well as all of its contents, have passed to you, Harry. Might I suggest that you send Kreacher to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded his head. “Kreacher,” he said, “You will go and work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, until I tell you otherwise.”

With a last filthy glare and a loud pop, Kreacher disappeared.

“Now, let us tend to the other matter at hand,” Dumbledore continued. He stood and crossed the room where he opened the door and ushered Malfoy inside. Another glass of mead appeared and floated towards the pale boy.

“This young man is Draco Malfoy,” Dumbledore began. “Draco, this is Vernon and Petunia Dursley. You saw their son, Dudley, when you came in, and of course you know Harry.” Harry glared at Malfoy.

Dumbledore continued, seemingly unaware of the mounting tension in the room. “Unfortunately, circumstances have arisen that make it unsafe for Draco to remain at his home. Because of the heavy enchantments placed upon this house, this is the safest place for him to stay at the moment. He will be remaining here for several weeks, or possibly until the start of the school term.”

“No he bloody well won’t!” shouted Harry. For once the Dursleys agreed with him, their shouts of indignance filling the small space.

“We won’t have another one of your kind here!” roared Uncle Vernon, “Besides, we don’t have space for you to drop another boy on us.”

Dumbledore sipped his mead calmly in response to their complaints. As the shouts died down, he continued.

“Petunia, I am aware that you have a guest bedroom,” he said. “I am afraid that I will have to insist that you allow this young man to stay in it for the time being. I can assure you that I will personally   
compensate you for any costs that you may incur due to his stay.”

“But, Malfoy!” Harry protested. “He’s vile! He’s-” he cast his mind around, searching for an explanation the Dursleys could understand. “He’s a racist! And his father is a Death Eater who tried to kill me!”

As Harry spoke he looked directly at Malfoy for the first time. He was even paler than usual, and his eyes were red and puffy. His face lacked the smug confidence that it usually displayed. As Harry spoke he seemed to sink into himself, gripping the glass of mead so tightly that the blood drained from his fingers. He did not protest.

Dumbledore’s calm voice cut in. “That is all very true, Harry,” he said. “But you must keep in mind that things can change, and that people are not always as they once were. It is important that Draco stay here for the time being, not for my sake or for yours, but for his own safety.”

Uncle Vernon cut in. “Why can’t the boy stay in his own home? What did he do to get himself kicked out?”

“It is not a matter of what he did, but what he refused to do,” Dumbledore replied. “And he was not ‘kicked out’, as you put it, but rather taken away for his own safety, as I have been attempting to tell you.”

Harry looked curiously at Malfoy. He was delicately sipping mead from his cup. From the corner of his eye Harry noticed Aunt Petunia watching as well. She seemed to find something acceptable in his demeanor. Her tone was significantly more gentle when she spoke.

“Is this really the only option to keep him safe?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that it is,” Dumbledore replied. “I am well aware that this arrangement would not be the choice of anyone in this room. However, I hope that all of you can put aside your personal feelings, if only for a moment, to recognize that the safety of a young man is at stake. Years ago, when I asked you, Vernon and Petunia, to take Harry in and treat him as your own son you did so grudgingly. I am well aware that you have never treated him with love or kindness. Yet I am here again, asking you to afford another young man basic decency, so that he can have the opportunity to live freely and safely for at least a short time.”

Aunt Petunia sighed in exasperation. “The boy can stay with us.” She elbowed Uncle Vernon in the ribs as he opened his mouth to protest. “But for no longer than is absolutely necessary.”

Dumbledore smiled broadly. “Then in that case I shall be going. There are many matters that I must attend to today.” With a swish of his wand the mead and glasses disappeared. “I believe that Draco brought most of the things that he will need with him, though he left in quite a hurry. If there is anything that he needs please have Harry inform me, and I will gladly compensate you for your expenses. In a few weeks I will be returning to take the boys shopping for their school supplies; due to the current political climate it would be unwise for either of them to venture far into the wizarding world alone.”

As the wizard strode towards the door Harry followed him. Dumbledore paused at the door and looked at the boy.

“Harry, if you could step outside with me for a moment,” he said, “There is one more thing that I would like to discuss with you. It will be quite quick.”

Harry nodded and stepped through the door. With relief he saw that the rain was clearing at last. “What is it, Professor?”

“Harry,” Dumbledore began, “I have always been astounded at your capacity to show love. I know that you and Draco have fought for many years, and that there have been wrongdoings on both sides. But I ask that in the next weeks you make your best attempt to give him another chance. He has just been through a very difficult situation, and more than anything he needs a friend.”

Harry looked unhappy with this request. “But sir, he’s Draco Malfoy. I’ve given him chances, plenty of them, but he’s never been anything but horrid! He calls Hermione a mudblood, and Ron a blood traitor, and-”

Dumbledore cut him off. “I understand that this is no easy thing I ask of you Harry. In fact, it may be the most difficult task I have ever given to you. But I ask only that you try. Can you promise me Harry, that you will at least attempt to be kind towards him?”

Harry looked at the ground, unwilling to answer.

“Well,” said Dumbledore, “I really must be off. I will see you in a few weeks Harry, and if all goes well I will be taking both of you to join the Weasley family.”

As Dumbledore walked down the path Harry stepped back through the door. He was met with glares from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, as well as the strangely hollow gaze of Draco Malfoy.

  
“Show your friend to the guest room,” Aunt Petunia snapped. Her momentary softness was gone.

“He’s not my friend,” Harry muttered, pushing angrily past his aunt and uncle.

“And keep him away from Dudley,” demanded Uncle Vernon, oblivious to what Harry had said. “Your lot keeps doing strange things to him.”

Harry smirked as he led Malfoy up the stairs. Uncle Vernon was, of course, referring to the pig’s tail Hagrid had given Dudley when they first met; an act that had planted a suspicion that was compounded years later when Fred and George Weasley had intentionally given him a candy that had grown his tongue to immeasurable lengths. For a moment he contemplated setting Malfoy, who had very few reservations when it came to using curses, loose on Dudley. But then he grimaced. Even Malfoy didn’t deserve to be stuck with such a vile person.

At the top of the stairs Harry paused. “Your room’s there,”” he pointed, “ And that’s the bathroom there.” He turned to look at Malfoy again. When he spoke his voice was full of contempt for the blond. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing here, or what it is Dumbledore was being so cryptic about. But I don’t like you, and I don’t want to see you, or talk to you. Stay here if you have to, but leave me alone.”

Draco nodded his head, his lips pursed. He pulled open the door to the guest room. As Harry opened his own door, a thought struck him.

“Malfoy,” he asked, his voice much calmer than before, “Do you know how to turn on the lights?”

Draco turned back towards Harry and shook his head. Sighing, Harry walked over and reached through the door.

“You see this? It’s a switch. They’re in every room, usually near doors. If you move it like this,” he demonstrated, “the lights come on in the room. Make sure you turn them off before you leave the room though, or Uncle Vernon will yell at you.”

Malfoy nodded his head. “Thanks,” he said. Harry turned to go back to his room, a little surprised to be thanked. As he reached for the handle, he heard Malfoy’s voice again.

“Potter, could I use the shower?” His voice was flat and nervous, with no trace of the sneering tone that Harry had come to know at Hogwarts.

Harry sighed again. “Of course Malfoy. Follow me, I’ll show you how to use everything.’  


* * *

Harry angrily paced back and forth in his room. Malfoy, living with the Dursleys? What was Dumbledore thinking? He itched to send a letter to Ron and Hermione, but it would have to wait until Hedwig was back from hunting.

“Boys!” called Aunt Petunia’s voice from downstairs, “Supper!”

Harry smirked. Supper with the Dursleys and Malfoy? This was sure to be interesting. He looked towards the guest room as he stepped into the hall. The door was open and the tall boy was staring out, unsure if he was invited. Harry nodded once and gestured him forward gruffly.

In the kitchen Harry took his regular seat, displeased to see that the extra spot for Malfoy was set directly next to him. The boy hesitated for a moment before sitting down.

“Draco, was it?” Uncle Vernon asked, chewing on a piece of chicken. “Odd name. Where’s your family from?”

“Wiltshire,” Malfoy answered in a flat tone. He picked up his knife and began cutting delicately at his food.

“Wiltshire,” mused Uncle Vernon. “A country boy then? How did you end up mixed up with this lot?”

Harry saw Malfoy stiffen beside him. He was staring into his plate as if he might melt a hole all the way through it.

“He was born to a wizarding family,” Harry cut in, sensing the other boy’s distress. “A really old and well-known one.”

Uncle Vernon grunted into his plate. “Old and well-known? Then what’s he doing with us?”

Harry shrugged in response. He had no idea what Malfoy was doing hiding out with them. All he knew was that he didn’t trust him.

Aunt Petunia decided to try a different approach. “Where are your mother and father?” she asked.

Malfoy stiffened again. “My mother is at home,” he replied icily.

“And your father?” Harry cringed at Dudley’s inability to read expressions.

Malfoy looked up from his food and fixed his piercing gray eyes on the large boy. “Potter put him in Azkaban prison a few weeks ago.”

Aunt Petunia gasped. Uncle Vernon pushed his chair backwards and Dudley, having had firsthand experience with the dementors of Azkaban the summer before, slid right off of his. All of the Dursleys fixed their eyes on Harry.

“Like I said, his father tried to kill me,” Harry answered the unspoken question. “The same night his aunt succeeded in killing my godfather. Unfortunately she got away.”

Aunt Petunia made a strangled noise in her throat and turned back to her food. Uncle Vernon wisely decided to drop his attempts at small talk. Dudley was not so perceptive.

“Where is she now?” He gasped. “And why are you friends with him if half his family’s trying to kill you?”

Malfoy pushed back his chair and stood up. Averting his eyes from the table he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Harry sighed. “Actually, his whole family is trying to kill me. And last time I saw him, he would have taken any chance he could get too.” He pushed back his chair. “I’m going to bed.”

* * *

The next day passed quietly. Malfoy was, at least, making good on his agreement to stay out of Harry’s way. He left the guest room briefly for breakfast and dinner, where he ate quickly and silently. Hedwig had not returned from her hunting trip, forcing Harry to delay sending a message to Ron about the present situation.

Harry was woken early the next morning by a tapping. He leapt out of bed eagerly and threw open his window. Hedwig flew in, a mouse clutched in her beak. She hooted appreciatively as Harry ruffled her feathers.

“Eat quickly,” Harry told her, “I need you to take a message to Ron.”

Hedwig hooted indignantly and settled down to eat her mouse. Harry rifled through his bag to find a quill and a piece of parchment. He scribbled a quick note to Ron, rolled it up and tied it onto the owl’s leg.

“Make sure he sends me a reply,” he instructed the still-eating Hedwig. “And then hurry back. I need to send a message to Hermione too.”

Hedwig flew off, the last bite of her mouse in her beak. Harry sighed and sat down on his bed. He glanced at the alarm clock that he had fixed years before. 7:30. He still had some time before Aunt Petunia was yelling at him from the kitchen. He swung his legs back under the covers and closed his eyes. But before he could fall asleep, he heard muffled sounds coming from the room next door. He heard a gasp and then- was that a sob? He opened his door and stepped into the hall.

The sounds were definitely coming from Malfoy’s room. Curious, Harry bent down and put his eye to the keyhole. He blinked in astonishment at what he saw. Draco Malfoy was crying; really crying, with tears running down his face as he muffled his sobs in a pillow. He gulped and gasped, and then seemed to hold his breath as he sent the pillow flying across the room. A moment later he pulled the door open.

With a gasp Harry tumbled into the room. The look on Malfoy’s face instantly changed to rage.

“Thought you’d spy on me, Potter?” he bellowed. Harry made frantic shushing motions. It wouldn’t be good for either of them if their fight woke the Dursleys. Malfoy didn’t stop. “I thought you wanted me to leave you alone. I guess I can’t expect to have any privacy at all around you. Typical. Are you happy with what you saw?”

Harry pulled himself to his feet. “Malfoy,” he muttered, “Not so loud. You don’t want to wake the Dursleys.”

“I don’t bloody care about who I wake up, Potter!” With that, Malfoy launched himself at Harry, fists flying. Harry retaliated, getting in a good punch to the other boy’s side before he heard Uncle Vernon’s voice.

“What is the meaning of this?” bellowed Uncle Vernon. “I, out of the goodness of my heart, let you two ungrateful freaks stay here, and this is how you repay me? By fighting, by waking up my family, on a Sunday no less? Get out!”

Harry pulled himself away from Malfoy’s grasp. “It was just a misunderstanding, Uncle Vernon, it won’t happen again.”

“It had better not!” Harry’s tone had done nothing to soothe his uncle’s temper. “Now get out! I don’t want to see either of you again today!”

Harry glared at Uncle Vernon as he shuffled into his room, grabbed his wand and a small pile of money, and stuffed both into his pockets. He stomped down the stairs and out the door, Malfoy following close behind. Once both boys were outside, Uncle Vernon shut and locked the door. There was no getting back in now.

Malfoy stormed off down the street. For a moment Harry considered following him; the pale boy didn’t know where he was and had no idea how to act in the muggle world. But then his shoulder began to smart where Malfoy had hit it, and Harry decided to let him find his own way for the day.

Harry started off in the direction of a local cafe. He was glad that he had thought to exchange a few Galleons for muggle money the last time he had been at Gringotts. He had been to visit the cafe several times in the past weeks on days when the grief of losing Sirius had threatened to overwhelm him. He hated to admit how familiar the scene of Malfoy crying had been- most days he cried at some point himself.

He settled into a cozy booth in the cafe. When the waitress came by he ordered a light breakfast. He ate slowly, playing with his food in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts. Finally he sighed and pushed away his plate. He looked at the clock above the counter, wondering what he was going to do for the rest of the day. He ambled out and headed towards a nearby park.   


Harry stared listlessly at the pond for hours. It was well past noon when he was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps.   
He didn’t have to look up. He saw the reflection of Malfoy’s blond hair in the water as he approached. As he drew level with Harry he hesitated for a moment, then sat down.

“Listen, Potter.” His voice was hoarse and cracked. “I shouldn’t have hit you. Things have been really hard for me lately and… I lost control.” his voice trailed off.

Harry sighed. “It wasn’t all you, Malfoy. I shouldn’t have been watching you like that. And I shouldn’t have told you to stay away from me the other night either. It’s just…” He took a deep breath; his voice was quivering. “Well, I’ve been thinking about something Dumbledore said, about there being wrongs on both sides. Maybe he was right.”  
Malfoy silently nodded his head. Both boys stared into the water, an unspoken agreement forming between them. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the crunch of approaching footsteps.

“Oy, look who it is!” Harry’s head swivelled up at the sound of Dudley’s voice. He was with one of his more vile friends, Piers Polkiss. “It’s Harry and his boyfriend, the down-in-the-dumps dragon!” Dudley jeered. “That was quite the spat you two had this morning. What happened, did one of you look at another boy?”

“Go away Dudley,” Harry responded icily. “Your stench is making it impossible to enjoy nature.”

“Should we beat you up, or has your boyfriend already done it for us?” Piers sneered. “Or was it really just a misunderstanding, and you weren’t fighting at all this morning?”

Immediately both Harry and Malfoy’s faces turned red with rage. Malfoy covered his face with his hand as Harry leapt to his feet.

“You shut your filthy mouths and sod off!” he yelled at Piers and Dudley. “If I was a year older I would curse you both!”

Dudley looked horrified by Harry’s threat. Piers, however, had fixed his attention on something else. He turned his back, scowling.

“Let’s go Dudley,” he said. “These two are no fun anyways.” He looked back for a moment. “Nice tattoo blondie. A snake? So unoriginal.”

It took Harry a second to realize the meaning of Piers’ words. Looking down, he saw Malfoy pressing his left arm tightly against his body, his sleeve drawn halfway down his hand, a look of dread on his face.

Harry leapt onto Malfoy. The boy kicked and squirmed, trying to throw Harry off.

“Don’t, please,” Malfoy begged as Harry reached for his left sleeve. The dark-haired boy didn’t listen. He wrenched down the sleeve and gasped in horror.

In an instant Harry had his wand in hand, pointed at the face of the boy below him.

“Stop!” yelled Malfoy, going limp. “Please, don’t use magic. Please, they can’t find me! They’ll kill me!”

“Then explain this!” Harry demanded, gesturing towards the Mark on Malfoy’s forearm. “Are you trying to kill me? Hide in my house so you can take me straight to Voldemort?”

“No!” screamed Malfoy. “Please, put down your wand. Hit me, I deserve it, but don’t let them find me!” Tears were falling from his eyes as he shook with fear.

Harry moved his wand away from Malfoy’s face, wondering what was making him so terrified of it.

“Please,” the boy begged, more coherent now that the wand was not in his face, “We’re both still underage. If you use magic the Ministry will know and they’ll send an auror to check on you. But if they see me, the Dark Lord will find out.” He seemed to fold in upon himself; his voice became barely a whisper. “And if he knows where I am he’ll kill me.”

Confused, Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket. Malfoy stayed limp beneath him.

“If Voldemort wants to kill you then what is the Dark Mark doing on your arm?” Harry yelled. “We both know that your parents are Death Eaters Malfoy. Why shouldn’t I believe that you’re one too?”

“Draco,” the boy on the ground whispered. “You may as well call me Draco.”

Harry stiffened in surprise. “Why?” he barked.

Draco took a deep breath that caught in his throat and came out as a sob. “I ran away Potter. Don’t you understand? They were forcing me to join them, the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, the other Death Eaters. To take my father’s place. I thought I wanted to. I always thought I wanted to.” He sobbed again. “But I was wrong. He branded me, with that- that Mark.” He paused for a moment as an expression of agony crossed his face. Tears were streaming from his eyes as he took another big gulp of air. “Dumbledore got me out, I still don’t know how. My mother wouldn’t come with me, and I can’t go back, I can’t ever go back, they’ll kill me if they find me.”

Harry looked down at Draco. Gently, he slid the sleeve back over the Mark on his arm, being careful not to touch it. He rolled off of the boy and resumed his seat next to him. “That’s why you’re here then?”

Draco nodded his head and sat up. “Dumbledore said it was the only way to keep me safe. Something about you being protected here.” Harry nodded his head; he knew what the headmaster had meant. “That’s the only reason I agreed to come. I didn’t want to stay with you Potter, any more than you want me to be here.”

“Harry,” the dark-haired boy said. “Call me Harry.” Draco nodded his head again before pulling up his knees and burying his face in them. He wrapped his arms around his head.

“I must look pathetic,” he muttered, “I haven’t been able to stop crying for days.”

Harry sighed. “You’re not pathetic. Honestly, the only reason I’ve not been crying the last few days is I’ve been too busy being angry at you.”

Draco lifted his head a little to smirk. “Or maybe we’re both pathetic.” Harry returned a grim smile.

Harry-” Draco didn’t seem sure of what to say. “I’m sorry about your godfather. And the way I always laughed about your parents. I couldn’t understand what it was like, before, to lose someone you cared about. But now… I begged my mother to come with me when I left. And she refused. And my father… I don’t know if I’ll ever see either of them again.” Harry reached his hand slowly towards the other boy. Gently he rested it on Draco’s shoulder. The blond boy lifted his head and gave a weak smile.

“The Dursleys seem like awful people to live with. Are all muggles like them?”

Harry shook his head. “No, most muggles are no different than me or Hermione. The Dursleys are just really awful. You know that little cupboard under the stairs? That used to be my bedroom.”

A look of disgust passed across Draco’s face. “And I thought the guest room was small!”

Harry laughed. “It probably is compared to what you’re used to.”

Draco nodded. “My room back at the manor was about the same size as my whole dormitory at school. And I had my own bathroom.”

At the mention of the school dormitories a thought popped into Harry’s head. “What are you going to do at school?” he blurted out. “Half the Slytherins have Death Eater parents. You can’t stay with them can you?”

Draco grimaced. “It’s more than half of them now. Dumbledore said we could see what to do about it when school starts. I’ll probably have to join another house.”

Harry kicked at the ground as Draco buried his head in his knees again. He couldn’t imagine being forced to join another house. As important as being a Gryffindor was to him, he knew that Draco took pride in his family’s long Slytherin heritage. Joining another house would truly cement his betrayal. He looked at the boy sitting next to him.

“Hey,” said Harry. “Are you hungry? It’s almost suppertime, and I never had lunch.”

Draco looked lost in thought for a moment but then nodded his head. “Yeah, I am. But I don’t have any muggle money.” He paused for a second “And I probably don’t have much of our money either.”

“That’s okay,” Harry assured him. “I’ve got muggle money, and I’m happy to share with you. Let’s get McDonalds.”

Draco stared at him blankly. “What?”

“It’s what the muggles call fast food,” Harry explained. “They have hamburgers and chips. You’ll probably like it.”  


Harry and Draco arrived back at the Dursley’s late that evening in surprisingly good spirits. While they were eating Harry had realized that Draco had never been to a movie theater and decided to remedy the situation. The wizard-born boy had been amazed by the lights and sound, and couldn’t stop asking questions afterwards. Harry found himself smiling; he had never seen Draco so excited about anything. Once the Dursleys had grudgingly let them in, Draco had excitedly pointed to the telly and asked if it could show the same things. This had elicited a sharp remark about the ridiculous antics of “their kind” from Uncle Vernon, who demanded that they go to bed immediately. 

* * *

  
Harry was surprised to see Hedwig waiting for him in his room; he had forgotten that he sent her out that morning. She hooted softly as he removed the letter that was tied to her leg.   
  
_Harry,_  
 _Dumbledore’s been talking to my parents about Malfoy. There’s something going on with him that none of them will tell me. Bad luck that you got stuck with him though._  
 _Ron_  
  
Harry tossed the letter aside and quickly scribbled a new one to Hermione. Then he balled it up and threw it in the bin. Unsure, he quickly pulled it back out and flattened it. He had had a good evening with Draco, and the boy did seem to be acting decently. But how could he ask Hermione to forgive someone who had called her mudblood and treated her with contempt for years? How could he be sure that Draco didn’t still feel that way? And of course Ron wouldn’t understand, not without proof. Even then he wasn’t likely to be nice. He decided that the letter to Hermione could wait another day.   


That morning Harry woke up to the sounds of Uncle Vernon leaving for work. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought, before he rolled over and stood up. He walked quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and went back to the sitting room. He settled down on the couch and turned on the telly.

A few minutes later Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned his head to see Draco appear at the doorway. He hung back for a moment, then stepped inside and settled down in an armchair, staring in fascination at the pictures moving across the screen. Harry smiled to himself; he was only watching the news, but Draco had never seen anything like it.

“Looks like the rain is finally over,” Harry said. “Good thing too, I was getting sick of it.”

Draco stared at the weather map. “How do the muggles know this stuff?” he asked.

Harry contemplated trying to explain satellites and weather balloons to someone who didn’t know how to plug in a lamp. He was saved from having to invent an explanation by the sound of Aunt Petunia calling him to make breakfast from the hallway.

“I’ll try to explain later,” he promised as he turned off the telly. He walked into the kitchen, Draco following close behind.

“Make yourself useful boy,” Aunt Petunia said upon seeing him. “Make the coffee, and warm up the pack of bacon that’s in the freezer so Harry can cook it.” Harry snorted as Draco stopped in the middle of the kitchen, a confused look on his face.

“Well, get on with it boy!” Aunt Petunia snapped. “Or do you not have breakfast where you’re from?”

At this Harry burst out laughing. Aunt Petunia rounded on him angrily.

“What’s so funny?”

“He’s probably never seen a coffee maker or a microwave in his life!” Harry gasped out between peals of laughter. “Wizards use magic for that sort of stuff!” He glanced towards Draco, who was smiling broadly.

“I’ve never cooked anything anyways, my family had House Elves to do that! I’ve been in your kitchen more times than I was ever in my own!”

Aunt Petunia looked startled by Draco’s admission. Sneering, she bustled away. “I expect breakfast in half an hour, Harry!” she called out.

Harry sank to the floor in a fit of laughter. Draco leaned against a counter, chuckling with a wide grin on his face.

“Have you really never cooked anything?” Harry asked as his laughter subsided.

“No,” Draco replied, still shaking. “I tried to make biscuits once, summer after second year. I ended up burning myself. I still have the scar.” He held out his right hand, and Harry saw a small crescent-shaped scar at the base of his thumb. “I think I could probably figure some of it out now with magic, but since that’s not really an option here…” he shrugged.

“Let me show you how this stuff works,” Harry offered. “If you’re here a while the Dursleys will probably start treating you like they treat me.”

When Aunt Petunia returned half an hour later the kitchen was a mess; coffee grinds were spilled on the counter, pans were sitting smoking on the stove, and the microwave was beeping incessantly. But Draco was grinning broadly as he flipped his first pancake onto Dudley’s plate.   


* * *

The summer continued in a lazy sort of way. The Dursleys had finally realized that Draco didn’t understand half of what they said and did, and left him and Harry mostly alone. The two boys spent their time either in Harry’s room playing card games (which Draco was surprisingly good at) or wandering around the neighbourhood. Harry wasn’t sure that he would call Draco a friend, but he certainly wasn’t an enemy, and he was a good deal better than Dudley.

Harry woke on July 31 to a knock at his bedroom door. Curious, he shoved his glasses onto his face and sat up. The Dursleys never knocked.

“Come in,” he called.

Draco walked in, a miniscule owl perched on his shoulder. “This came for you,” he said, holding out a piece of parchment. “The owl came to the wrong window.”

Harry gave a half smile. “That’s Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl,” he explained. “He does stuff like that a lot. Can you put him over with Hedwig?” He unrolled the parchment as Draco nudged the owl onto Hedwig’s perch.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

Harry looked up from the letter. “Yeah, it is,” he said. “That’s what this is, a birthday letter from Ron and Hermione. How did you know?”

“My parents used to talk about it all the time, because of that prophecy you smashed. ‘Born as the seventh month dies’. Are the Dursleys going to do anything for it?”

Harry gave a forced laugh. “They don’t exactly like to celebrate me. They usually give me old socks and yell at me to make them food. A few years ago they sent me a toothpick for Christmas.”

Draco grimaced. “Even the Death Eaters make a bigger deal out of your birthday than your family does. I wish I could do something for you.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said, “I’m used to it. Maybe we can go do something exciting ourselves later.”

Draco nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we could make a real adventure of it!”

Harry glanced quickly down the letter from Ron. At the bottom was a section in Hermione’s neat writing.

“Hey, look here!” Harry called out, startling Draco. “Hermione says that Dumbledore has been at the Burrow, and that he’s planning on coming back to get us soon! Draco took the parchment and read the section Harry was pointing to. His face took on a stony expression.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, noticing his sudden silence.

Draco shook his head and returned the parchment. “Nothing.” He did not meet Harry’s eyes.

Harry didn’t say anything. Draco broke the silence a moment later.

“Your aunt and uncle are awful,” he said, “but at least they didn’t know who I was when I came here. Once Dumbledore comes to get us we’re going to the Weasley’s. And they know all of the awful things that I’ve said and done. And that my parents have done. They’re going to be awful to me. And I deserve it.”

Harry shook his head slowly. “The Weasley’s are really nice people, Draco. They understand that people can change.”

Draco’s grey eyes met Harry’s green ones. “Do you honestly think that Ron will accept that?” There was an edge to his voice. “Or Ginny, who almost died because of my father? The twins probably wouldn’t even let me into their shop in Diagon Alley, no matter what I told them.”

“It’s going to be okay. Ron can be really pigheaded sometimes, but he’ll come around.”

“What will happen when they see this?” Draco was nearly shouting now. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal the swirling mark beneath. “That’ll prove to them that I’m not a Death Eater! I’ll be lucky if they don’t curse me on the spot!”

“Stop!” Harry yelled. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll explain what happened to them, and if they won’t listen to me, Dumbledore will explain it too!”

Draco seemed to calm down and Harry gave him a small smile. “Besides, they wouldn’t curse you. Just don’t eat anything from Fred and George and you’ll be fine.”

Draco’s face took on a serious expression. “Actually,” he said, his voice low, “I should thank them. It was because of them that I managed to get away.”

Harry looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“When I was unpacking my trunk I found a couple of their candies; a Puking Pastille and one of the nosebleed ones. They must’ve fallen in there some time. I remembered people using them to get out of Umbridge’s class, and decided to carry them around with me. The Dark Lord had been living with us for a year, and my Aunt Bellatrix, and the Death Eaters were there so often. And because of everything that happened at the ministry, the Dark Lord was unhappy with my family. He threatened my mother, and me, all the time. I thought it might be good to have them, just in case.’

‘Then he decided that I could be made a replacement for my father. My mother thought that it would gain back his favour for our family. So, he - he branded me, with his mark.” Draco shuddered. “Everyone vomits when he does it, from the pain and the shock. But then he did it to me, and I took a bite of the candy so that I didn’t stop. And then my nose started bleeding. My mother got really worried and begged him to let me go to my room while she called a healer.’

‘I wrote a letter to Dumbledore as soon as I was alone. He was the only one I could think of who could help. I threw what I could in a bag and buried it deep in my closet, just in case someone saw. I don’t know how Dumbledore got my message so fast, or how he did it, but when the healer came, he walked right out with me and took me straight to him.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “That was really brave.”

“Not really.” Draco’s voice was no more than a whisper. “I only did it because I was scared. I’m not like you Harry. I don’t stand up and do things because I believe they’re right. I run away because I’m scared.”

Draco turned his back and rolled his sleeve back over the angry mark on his arm. He winced as the fabric touched it.

“I’m glad you ran away,” Harry said at last. “And I’m glad you’re here. And if the Weasleys won’t take the chance to get to know you, they’ll really be missing out.”  



	2. Chapter 2

A few hours later a second owl arrived. It flew through the open kitchen window and landed on the counter, causing Aunt Petunia to scream and bat it away. Harry took the message from its beak and hurried it outside as his aunt muttered about the ‘filthy bird’. He unrolled the parchment.

_ Harry,  _

_ Firstly, happy birthday. I wish you all the best.  _

_ I will be arriving at your aunt and uncle’s home tomorrow evening (the first of August) at five o’clock. I will be taking you and Mr. Malfoy to assist me with an errand, and then you will both be going to spend the remainder of your summer with the Weasley family. Please ensure that your belongings are packed and ready when I arrive.  _

_ Give my best to Draco and your family, _

_ Albus Dumbledore _

 

Harry pocketed the letter, avoiding Draco’s piercing gaze. He would show it to him later. 

The Dursleys sank to all-time low and didn’t mention Harry’s birthday once. Ignoring them, the boys went to explore some shops in a nearby neighbourhood. In the afternoon stormclouds began to gather, threatening rain. They bought an enormous amount of candy and resolved to spend the rest of their day playing Risk in Harry’s room.

Upon returning, however, their plans were shattered. Piers and Dudley were in the living room watching the telly; Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were nowhere to be seen. 

Dudley sneered at the two boys as they came in. “Have fun on your little date?” Piers smirked along.

“Sod off Dudley,” Harry muttered. 

“Why do you always wear long sleeves, blondie?” Piers asked. “Your boyfriend not like your tattoo?” 

Draco rounded angrily on Piers. Harry, who knew what he could be like when provoked, reached out to pull him back. 

“Oh, don’t like him fighting, do you?” Piers taunted. “Why don’t you let him make his own decisions.”

Draco tore his arm out of Harry’s grasp. He reached into the pocket where Harry knew he kept his wand. He seemed to think better of pulling it out, and instead wrenched up his left sleeve. 

“This what you’re talking about?” He spat angrily at the muggle boy. “This ‘tattoo’? Do you want to know what happens if I touch this tattoo?”

A horrified look crossed Dudley’s face; he had realized that this was no ordinary tattoo. He grabbed at Piers’ arm to pull him away.

Harry saw Draco’s right arm twitch towards his left one. He moved around him to see his outstretched arm, the mark on it no longer red and dormant but an angry black. A flicker of pain crossed Draco’s face as the colour intensified. 

Piers stared in fascination at the Mark, his taunting becoming curiosity. “How did you do that?”

Draco smirked. “The Dark Lord just summoned his Death Eaters. They’re assembling right now, probably trying to figure out where Harry is so that they can kill him.” Dudley’s pull on Piers’ arm became frantic. “I have this Mark because I’m one of them. All I have to do is touch it and they’ll see and come straight here, and kill everyone in their path. Including you.” 

Piers paled a little; it was obvious from Draco’s tone that he was neither joking nor lying. Dudley finally managed to pull him away, casting a petrified glance at Harry and Draco. The two muggle boys sank back into the couch. 

Draco’s face fell as he turned away and pulled down his sleeve. Harry could see him rubbing at his forearm and realized that the mark must be hurting him. Silently they walked up the stairs. 

“Don’t worry about Piers,” Harry said. “He’s just a bully. By tomorrow all he’ll remember is that you scared him. I doubt he’ll even remember seeing the mark.” Draco nodded tensely. 

Harry remembered the note in his pocket. “Besides, you won’t have to see him after tomorrow. Dumbledore is coming to get us. He said he’ll be here at five o’clock, and we both need to be packed to leave.”

At the top of the stairs Draco paused and sighed. “Harry,” he began, “I know we were going to play games. But, could we wait until later? I would like to be alone for a while.”

Harry nodded reassuringly. “I understand. Let me know if you want to talk.”

“Thanks,” Draco said. He stepped into the guest bedroom and shut the door. 

Harry kept his door open a crack. He looked around his room; it was a mess. Slowly he began picking up his things and tossing them into his school trunk. After a few minutes he heard voices from downstairs, followed by shuffling feet. The door slammed as Dudley and Piers left the house. 

Harry flopped on his bed. His trunk was a mess, but all of his school things were in it. He thumbed idly through Hogwarts: A History, toying again with the idea of actually reading it just to surprise Hermione. He heard Draco walk down the hall into the bathroom.

He tossed the book into his trunk, deciding that he might as well keep asking Hermione about Hogwarts. It landed with a thud. He sat up and stretched his back. 

A strange sound came from the bathroom; a sort of muffled yell. Harry pulled his door open and looked towards the room.

A second yelp split the air, followed by the unmistakeable sound of sobs. Harry dashed towards the bathroom and wrenched open the door.

What he saw made him freeze. Draco was standing over the sink, a crazed look on his face. In his right hand he held a knife. Blood was pouring from deep gouges in his left arm, mixing with tears and flowing down the drain.

Harry lunged forward to grab the knife; he caught it by the blade and sliced his own hand open. Cursing, he pulled it away from Draco and dropped it onto the counter. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

Draco stared at the floor, his tears falling into the sink. He gasped as Harry grabbed his arm.

“I have to get it off.” He sounded panicked. “I hate it! It’s been burning all day. I have to get rid of it!” 

Harry looked at the gouges Draco had made around the mark adorning his arm. They were deep, and bleeding badly. 

“Sit down,” Harry said gently. “And tell me if you get dizzy at all.”

Draco nodded. His eyes slid towards the knife and Harry nudged it out of his reach. 

“You’d die before you could cut that much of your arm off,” he muttered. 

Draco stayed silent but allowed Harry to guide him to the floor. 

Harry pulled some bandages out of the cupboard. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop the bleeding,” he said. “You’re going to have to go to a doctor.”

Draco’s eyes lit up with fear. “I can’t go to St. Mungo’s! They won’t help me, not with the Dark Mark on my arm! And what if they turn me in? What if the Death Eaters find me? What if He finds me?”

“Calm down,” Harry said, “We won’t take you to St. Mungo’s. I don’t have any way to get you there anyways.” He sighed. “But you can’t go to a muggle doctor either, you don’t have any ID.” He looked at the cuts again. He was applying pressure to them, but the blood kept seeping out through the bandages. He glanced at Draco’s face and was frightened by how pale it had already become. He didn’t know how to heal wounds with magic, but even if he did he knew that he couldn’t risk revealing Draco’s location to anyone from the Ministry. Slowly, an idea formed in his mind.

“I know something that might work to stop you bleeding,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt at the prospect. “But it’ll hurt. Probably a lot.”

Draco turned his tear-stained face towards Harry. “Just don’t take me to St. Mungo’s.”

“Keep pressing on these. I’ll be back in a second.”

Harry hurried downstairs, searching for Aunt Petunia’s sewing box. What he was considering was dangerous and stupid, but there weren’t many options, and if he didn’t act fast Draco was going to bleed out on the bathroom floor. Spotting the box, he threw it open and pulled out a needle and thread. He raced back up the stairs.

Draco was leaning against the wall. The crazed look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a vacant stare. Harry fumbled in the cabinet for disinfectant.

“Stay very still,” he muttered as he took Draco’s arm. “This is going to sting.”

Hands shaking, Harry dumped the disinfectant over the cuts, pouring a liberal amount over the needle as well. He paused, unsure.

“What happens if I touch it?” 

It took a moment for Draco to respond. Finally, he shook his head. “Nothing.” Harry was concerned by how slurred his speech was. “You have to really mean it.”

Draco’s body went rigid as Harry pushed the needle through his skin, but he didn’t cry out. Harry sewed shut the gouges on his arm, pulling the torn edges as close together as possible. He silently thanked Aunt Petunia for forcing him to learn how to mend clothes as a child. 

After what seemed like hours, the cuts were all shut. Harry poured disinfectant over everything and wrapped Draco’s arm tightly in a long bandage. He watched for a minute, but no blood seeped through. He sat back and took a deep breath; if this didn’t work he would have to find a way to get him to St. Mungo’s despite the danger. 

Harry looked around the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. He felt a twinge and looked down at his hand, remembering the cut from the knife. He turned on the tap and ran his hand under the warm water. It didn’t look serious. He wrapped a bandage around it. 

He turned back to Draco. He was still sitting on the floor, slumped over and barely conscious. His shirt was soaked with blood. Harry helped him gently to his feet and helped him to pull it off, then rinsed the blood off of his arms and face. 

“I’m going to take you to my room,” Harry said gently. “It’ll be best if you stay there tonight.” Aunt Petunia would be far less angry about blood on his sheets than on her good guest bed. 

Leaning on Harry, Draco limped across the hall and into the small bedroom. Harry held his injured arm gently as he collapsed into the bed and pulled up the covers. With relief, Harry noticed that some of the colour was starting to come back into his face. He rushed back to the bathroom; he had to clean it before the Dursleys got home.

The empty bathroom was a frightening sight. There was blood spattered across the mirror, sink and floor. The now empty bottle of disinfectant was lying in a corner next to several bloodstained bandages. Draco’s knife sat menacingly on the counter. 

Sighing, Harry found a rag. He tossed the disinfectant bottle and bandages in the bin; there was no point trying to pretend that nothing had happened. A few minutes later he had mopped up the blood from the floor and sink and was wiping the mirror. 

Harry surveyed the bathroom. The blood was gone, and it was passably clean. He pulled open the cabinet and rummaged through it, searching for anything that might help Draco. He pulled out a package of iron tablets before running to the kitchen, where he poured a large glass of orange juice. He would have preferred a blood replenishing potion, but this would have to do.

* * *

Draco was shivering. Harry looked carefully at the bandages. A little blood had started to seep through, but not enough to worry him. He helped Draco to sit up. 

“Take these,” Harry said softly. “And drink this. It’ll help you feel better.” He passed the pills to Draco and helped him to drink the juice. 

When he had finished Draco groaned and slid back down in the bed. His eyes fluttered shut and Harry pulled the blankets up onto him.

Harry slept on the floor that night, waking every couple of hours to check on Draco. Early in the morning he unwrapped the bandages. The cuts had all stopped bleeding and looked clean. He replaced the bandages with new ones and hoped that they were not infected. A few times he woke Draco to drink more juice; he remembered reading about the importance of staying hydrated after losing blood. 

It was late morning when Harry was woken by a loud groan. He sat up. Draco’s eyes were open and he was cradling his left arm with his right hand.

“What happened?” he asked. “My head hurts.”

Harry stood up and took his arm, checking it carefully for blood.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Last night I found you bleeding in the bathroom. I think you were trying to cut the Mark off your arm.”

Draco groaned. “Oh, yeah.” He sighed and then nodded. “I was,” he said matter-of-factly. “That stupid muggle made something snap. I don’t want it Harry. It burns and hurts, and it scares me. And I don’t want to be a part of them. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a part of them.” He paused. “I don’t really remember doing it. How bad is it?”  
Harry looked at Draco’s face. It was pale and drawn. “Really bad,” he said softly. “I had to do something, you were losing so much blood, and I couldn’t take you to any hospitals. I did something the muggles call stitches. Basically, I sewed your skin back together with a piece of thread.”

Draco grimaced. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

Harry nodded. “You’re going to have scars. Really bad ones.”

“I don’t really plan on showing anyone my arm anytime soon anyways.” Draco shrugged. He winced as the movement jarred his arm.

“Dumbledore is going to have to look at those,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, I’m serious. I literally sewed you together with a needle. I don’t know how long it’s going to last, or how to keep it from getting infected. You need help.”

Draco scowled. His protest was cut off by an enraged bellow from Uncle Vernon. 

“Harry! Get down here! And bring that malicious boy with you!”

Still scowling, Draco tried to get his feet. He swayed alarmingly. 

“Stay here,” Harry said, pushing him back down. “You’re seriously not doing well. I’ll talk to them.” He opened the door and looked back. “Seriously Draco, don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Harry walked down the stairs, dreading what he would find in the living room. He turned the corner.

Aunt Petunia was sitting on the couch, clutching desperately onto Dudley. Uncle Vernon was stomping in front of them, clearly fuming. He looked up as Harry entered the room.

“Where is he?” his tone was dangerous. “Where’s that freak who threatened my son?”  
“He’s sick,” Harry answered cooly. “He can’t get out of bed.”

Aunt Petunia started. She pulled her face away from Dudley and eyed Harry suspiciously. “It was his blood, wasn’t it, in the bathroom?” Harry didn’t answer. 

“I don’t care what’s wrong with him,” Uncle Vernon bellowed. “He threatened Dudley yesterday! With some ridiculous tattoo from your kind.” He spat the last words. “I will not have that in my house! I want him out, now. And I never want to see your worthless face again either!”

Harry snapped. “I hope I never have to see you or this horrid place again!” he shouted. “You’re monsters, all of you, and I’ve always hated you! Yesterday Piers was making fun of Draco. What did you expect him to do, just walk away? Pretend like it never happened? Like you’ve always made me do?” he spat the words out. “Well, you’re in luck. Dumbledore is coming for us tonight. Then we’ll be gone. And you won’t have to worry about my worthless face anymore!” He turned and stormed out of the room, Uncle Vernon hot on his heels.

“You are no longer welcome in my house, or my family!” 

Harry paused at the foot of the stairs. “Good,” he muttered, “I never wanted to be stuck here anyways.” He dashed up the stairs and shut himself in his bedroom.

Harry looked towards the bed. Draco had propped himself up on his elbows. His face was drained of colour. 

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think they would be that bad. I should’ve never shown the muggle my Mark.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s been coming for a long time,” he said. “I’ve always hated them. Besides, it won’t be that long before Dumbledore comes and we can forget all about them.”

Draco nodded and collapsed back into the bed. Harry hurried over and examined his arm carefully. He didn’t see any new blood, but he was still worried. He glanced at the clock; it was almost noon. He idly wondered why Uncle Vernon was at home at noon on a Thursday. Draco followed his gaze.

“When will Dumbledore be here?” the blond asked.

“His letter said five o’clock,” Harry answered. “We still have a few hours. Why don’t you rest for a bit, and then we can get your things packed up?”

Draco nodded; Harry could see his eyelids drooping already. Soon he was fast asleep, breathing deeply. Harry rummaged idly in his trunk, knowing that the Dursleys would not allow him downstairs. 

It was nearly two o’clock when the cat flap at the base of Harry’s door rattled, stirring Draco out of his sleep. Harry watched as Aunt Petunia’s hand appeared briefly, pushing a tray through the door. It had two plates, each with a piece of fish and a peanut butter sandwich, and two large glasses of milk. Harry was surprised; usually when the Dursleys were angry with him they gave him cold soup and other equally unpleasant things. He reached towards the tray.

“Make sure that he eats,” Aunt Petunia’s voice came from the other side of the door. She spoke in a surprisingly soft tone. “If he’s lost blood, these will help.”

“Thanks,” muttered Harry, “I will.” He was surprised to see this compassionate side of his usually harsh aunt. He heard her footsteps move away from the door as he reached over to shake Draco awake. 

The two boys ate quickly. Draco was feeling much better and had no trouble sitting up. Once he had finished Harry helped him to the bathroom, where he quickly showered in an attempt to wash streaks of red from his light hair. By the time that he had finished and Harry had carefully rewrapped his arm in bandages, they had just enough time left to throw his belongings into his bag. 

With a grunt Harry pulled his school trunk from his room and to the top of the stairs. It joined Draco’s bag and Hedwig’s cage to form a precarious pyramid. He glanced at a clock. Dumbledore would be here any minute. He turned back to his room. He and Draco were dressed and ready to leave. Draco was doing much better than he had been earlier, but was still wobbly on his feet. Harry was sure that he would need help down the stairs. 

Finally, the doorbell rang. Harry dashed down the stairs, Draco hobbling slowly behind. He threw open the door to reveal the wizard, wearing a bright purple robe and standing with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah Harry, it’s good to see you,” Dumbledore said. Looking past the figure in the doorway, he added, “And you too Draco. I hope that you have both been well.”

Before either boy could answer, Uncle Vernon came bursting out of the sitting room. 

“You!” the man bellowed. “It’s about time you showed up! Dropping this delinquent on us and then vanishing- bah!” A vein ticked angrily in his neck. “Take them away. Neither of them is welcome back here.” He gestured angrily at Harry, holding the door, and Draco, swaying slightly on the third last step. 

Dumbledore smiled politely. “I am indeed here to take the boys away for the remainder of the summer. However, I must ask that you allow Harry to return once more before he comes of age on his seventeenth birthday. You see, as long as he is able to call this place home, as cruel and awful as it may be, he is protected by the enchantments I set up fifteen years ago. Without the protection of these enchantments he would become vulnerable to Lord Voldemort, who I know you have heard about, and his Death Eaters.”

Dudley, who had slunk into the hallway unnoticed, stammered at the mention of Death Eaters. He glanced nervously towards Draco’s left arm before turning and running into the kitchen. 

Uncle Vernon looked extremely displeased. Dumbledore fixed him with his piercing gaze. 

“Perhaps this matter would best be discussed in writing. I will send you a letter explaining the circumstances as soon as I am able.”

Uncle Vernon glared at the wizard. “I will not tolerate any more bloody owls in my house!” he barked.

“Quite understandable,” Dumbledore nodded. “I will be sure to send my letter through your post system.” The headmaster turned back towards Harry and Draco. “Now, are you packed and prepared to leave?”

Harry nodded his head. “Our things are upstairs. I’ll just-” 

Dumbledore cut him off. “There is no need for you to bring them here,” he said. “I will send them to the Weasley’s house ahead of us.” He flicked his wand. “Now, Harry, Draco, if you will follow me.” 

Dumbledore led the way down the street. His fast pace was too much for Draco, who fell behind immediately, gasping as he tried to keep up.

“Slow down,” Harry said, noticing Draco behind him. Dumbledore stopped and turned towards the boy. 

“You do not look well today Draco,” the professor mused. 

Harry shook his head, earning himself a furious look from Draco. “He’s hurt professor,” Harry said. “He… got cut, on his arm, last night, and he lost a lot of blood. I had to improvise a way to stop the bleeding.”

Dumbledore moved towards Draco with a concerned expression. “Can I see?” he asked gently. Grudgingly, Draco held out his arm. Dumbledore gently unwrapped the bandages. 

“These are very serious cuts, Draco,” the headmaster observed. “Can I ask what your reasoning was?”  
Draco hung his head. “I wasn’t really thinking,” he admitted. “I wanted to get it off- the Mark. It seemed like the best way.”

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. “Unfortunately, Draco,” he began, “there is no way for you to be rid of it. Thankfully, Harry seems to have kept his wits about him. I have no doubt that the stitches he gave you last night saved your life. Now, at this point there is very little that can be done for you magically. You will simply have to wait for these wounds to heal. They are currently very clean, and have not become infected. You will have to be very careful to keep them that way. As far as the ill effects from losing blood: I am certain that Molly Weasley has some Blood Replenishing Potion. When we reach the Burrow we can ask her if she would be willing to give some to you to assist in your recovery.”

“Now,” Dumbledore continued, “I have some important business that I will need your help with. If you could both grasp tightly onto my arms, we will be travelling by apparition.” 

As Harry took hold of Dumbledore’s right arm, he noticed that the wizard’s wand hand was blackened and shrivelled, resembling something long dead.

* * *

Harry smiled in appreciation as the Burrow came into view in the early morning light. Dumbledore’s important business had turned out to be a trip to an old friend; the man had seemed quite eccentric. Upon their arrival he had wrecked the house in which he was staying and disguised himself as an armchair, afraid that they may be Death Eaters seeking him out. In the end he had agreed to Dumbledore’s proposition to return to Hogwarts as a teacher. He had seemed strangely fascinated by both boys, and enjoyed talking about the students that he had formerly taught. He was quite proud of their accomplishments.  


Before proceeding towards the Weasley’s lopsided house, Dumbledore pulled both boys out of sight. 

“I am proud of you, Harry and Draco,” he said, “for learning to put aside your differences in the past weeks. I am aware that staying here will be stressful for you Draco. Unfortunately it will be difficult for the Weasleys to accept you. Let me assure you that they are good people, who have a great capacity for kindness. If you are open and honest with them they will, in time, come to trust you. Until then I am certain that you will have the support of Harry, and of Arthur and Molly Weasley, who understand a good deal about the situation that you are in.”

Draco nodded his head numbly. Harry could see fear in his eyes. 

“Now, before we continue, there are several things that I would like to make you aware of.” Dumbledore was addressing Daco directly. “Firstly, I want to assure you that, for the time being, your mother is safe. Her situation remains precarious, but no harm had fallen to her.”

Draco gave a weak smile at this news as relief washed across his face.

“Secondly, is, of course, the matter of money.” Draco’s smile was quickly replaced by a grimace. “You have, of course been restricted completely from your parent’s Gringott’s vault. You will no longer be able to access any of their money or to open any credit in their names.Thankfully I was able to act quickly to secure your personal vault. All of your assets have been moved to a new vault which you have sole access to.”

Draco’s smile returned, a little broader, at the good news. 

“The last matter,” Dumbledore continued, “Is sadly not of such a welcome nature. In past weeks it has become clear that you will not safely be able to remain in Slytherin house in the coming year. As it is not our tradition to re-sort students, there is no existing protocol on how to handle such a matter. However, I have come up with a solution that I hope will be acceptable for everyone.”

“Will I be joining another house then?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” replied the headmaster. “I am afraid that you will have to do so. I propose that in the next month you should determine which house you would most like to join. When school reconvenes on September first we will discuss the matter again, and if we are in agreeance then you can join the house of your choosing.”

Draco seemed perplexed by this idea. “Professor,” he began hesitantly, “I don’t know what other house I could fit into. I’ve never thought of myself as anything but a Slytherin.”

Dumbledore smiled at Draco and gave a small wink. “You would do well in any of the houses, Draco,” he answered. “But it is up to you to decide what you value most.”

This seemed to signal the end of the conversation. Dumbledore resumed his walk up the path, the two students trailing behind. 

“Your OWL results should arrive later today,’ the Headmaster beamed at them. “I’m sure that you’re both quite excited.”

Harry chuckled. “Not as excited as Hermione must be.”

They approached the Weasley’s back door. From inside Harry could see a flurry of movement, followed by Mrs. Weasley’s voice cutting into the early morning stillness.

“Who’s there? Declare yourself!”

“It is I, Dumbledore,” the wizard replied. “Bringing young friends.”

Harry could see Draco tense as the door flew open. “Dumbledore!” Molly exclaimed in relief. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until later.”

“It so happens that we were lucky,” Dumbledore answered. “Horace Slughorn proved to be quite easily convinced.” He stepped forward as Molly ushered them into the kitchen. “Hello, Nymphadora.”

Tonks was sitting at the table, peering into a cup of tea. At Dumbledore’s greeting she raised her head, only to be captivated by something behind him. Harry turned to see that she was staring at Draco.

“H-Hello,” Tonks stammered breathlessly. “Draco, right?”

Draco nodded his head slowly.”Yeah,” he said, “I’m Draco. You’re- you’re Nymphadora Tonks, right?” 

Tonks slid back her chair. She looked sad, Harry thought, and surprisingly regular without her signature bubblegum pink hair. She crossed the room to Draco and stuck out her hand. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said shyly. “I’ve always wondered what kind of person my cousin was.”

Draco hesitated for a moment before grasping her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he replied with a small smile. 

Tonks hesitated for a moment. “Are you alright? I know the Malfoys are pale, but you’re like a ghost.”

“Yes,” interjected Dumbledore, “I wanted to speak to Molly about that. It seems that Draco was injured last night. Thanks to some quick thinking on Harry’s part he will be fine, but he has several bad cuts on his arm and has lost a good deal of blood. I was hoping that you would be able to look after him, and ensure that he heals properly.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at Draco and smiled softly. “Of course I will. I have some blood replenishing potion upstairs from when Arthur-” she paused. “I’ll get it for you in a few minutes.”

Tonks turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Thank you Molly, for the tea. And for listening.”

“It was no problem dear,” Mrs. Weasley continued to smile. “Why don’t you come to dinner Thursday? Remus will be here.”

Tonks shook her head. “No, I don’t think that would be best,” she replied sadly. She picked up her jacket. “I’m afraid I must really be going.”

“Allow me to accompany you,” Dumbledore said. “I have business with the minister.”

Tonks nodded her head and the two of them disappeared out the door, leaving Harry and Draco alone as Mrs. Weasley bustled off. 

Harry looked at Draco curiously. “I didn’t realize you and Tonks are cousins.” He thought of the tapestry that hung in 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Draco nodded slowly. “Our mothers are sisters. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix. We’ve never met before. I remember seeing her around Hogwarts a few times in our first year though.” There was a distant look in his eyes. 

Harry thought he heard someone on the stairs. As he turned to look he heard a crash behind him. He swung back around to see Draco lying on the floor, clutching at his arm.

“Draco! What happened?”  
Draco looked up at him, squinting. “I’m tired. It hurts.” His head slumped backwards. 

Harry threw himself down and caught Draco’s head just in time before it hit the floor. He lowered the unconscious boy down gently before pulling up his sleeve to check the wounds. 

Mrs. Weasley bustled back into the room. A look of alarm spread over her face as she saw the boys huddled on the floor.

“What happened?” she asked anxiously as she hurried closer.

“He passed out,” Harry answered, examining the cuts. There was no blood, but the Mark burned black. Mrs. Weasley lowered herself to the floor beside him. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw her cringe as she looked at Draco’s arm. 

“He didn’t want it,” Harry muttered. “He tried to cut it off. That’s what all of this is from.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Dumbledore told Arthur and myself what to expect.” She grasped Draco’s arm. “Are those what the muggles call stitches? I remember, Arthur tried them.” 

Harry nodded his head. “Yeah, it was the best I could do. I found him bleeding in the bathroom, and I couldn’t do any magic. I’m afraid that they’ll come out though, or that they’ll get infected.”

Harry felt an arm slip around his shoulders. He leaned into Mrs. Weasley. The touch felt comforting. 

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised. “Starting by giving him some of this.” She pulled her hand away from Harry and reached into her robe to retrieve a small vial. “Blood replenishing potion. Now, if you can hold him up a bit, like this, I think he’ll feel much better once he can get some of this down.”

Harry helped Mrs. Weasley to trickle some of the potion down Draco’s throat. Colour began to come back to his cheeks as he stirred. A few moments later, his eyes fluttered open. 

“Why am I on the floor?”

Harry chuckled in relief as Mrs. Weasley handed Draco the vial. He gulped it down as Harry told him about his fall. 

“Are you boys hungry?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice came from across the kitchen. Harry looked at Draco, who nodded. 

“Yeah, I think we both are.” he called back as he helped Draco towards a seat at the table. 

Mrs. Weasley spooned a large bowl of steaming soup out of a simmering pot for each of the boys. Setting it in front of them, she waved her wand at a loaf of bread. Immediately two pieces split off and soared over to rest with the soup. Harry beamed up at her. 

The boys ate as if they were famished. Draco seemed to forget, or otherwise disregard, his impeccable manners as he tore at the bread and dipped it into his soup. He smiled contentedly, the anxiety momentarily vanishing from his face. 

Mr. Weasley arrived home as the boys ate. Exhausted, he sat down beside them and ate just as vigorously. Finally he pushed back his plate, glancing at Harry just as he tried to stifle a yawn.

“I think it’s time you two got to bed,” Mr. Weasley observed. Mrs. Weasley turned towards them.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s very late. Fred and George are staying in the flat above their shop in Diagon Alley. Their joke shop is doing very well, they’re too busy keeping up with it to come home every night. I’ve made up the beds in their room.” She paused, chewing her lip nervously. “If that’s not alright, we can wake up Ron and set up a bed for Harry in his room.” She looked pensively towards the boys.

“No,” said Draco softly, “That would be fine. I don’t mind sharing a room with Harry. So long as he doesn’t mind.” He glanced towards Harry.

Harry shook his head. “Fred and George’s room sounds fantastic, Mrs. Weasley,” he asserted. He turned towards Draco. “Besides,someone has to make sure you don’t pass out again.” The playful tone in his voice did not quite cover his concern. 

Mrs. Weasley led them to a room on the second floor. Other than the beds pushed against either wall, it looked more like a storage room than a bedroom, with boxes piled everywhere. Harry’s trunk and Draco’s bag were there waiting for them as they sank eagerly into bed. 

* * *

Harry woke to the sound of voices twittering anxiously. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, glancing to the other side of the room. Draco was sitting up in his bed, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him.

“You might as well open the door before they break it down.” Harry could hear the anxiety he was trying to hide under his usual sneering tone. 

As Harry pulled open the door a ball of wavy brown hair streaked into him, nearly knocking him over. He took several steps back into the room as Hermione clung to him.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “We’ve missed you so much!” 

Ron and Ginny followed Hermione into the room. Harry noticed as Ron glanced towards Draco, an angry look on his face. He pulled away from Hermione and turned towards his friends. 

“Hermione, Ginny, Ron. There’s someone I would like you to meet.” He met their confused stares with a confident grin and gestured towards Draco, who was resolutely ignoring them. “This is Draco. He’s been staying at my house for the past couple of weeks, and he’s a really great guy. I think you should get to know him.”

At the sound of his name Draco swivelled his head towards the occupants of his room. He met the confused stares of Hermione and both Weasleys with a passive one of his own. 

Hermione stared at Draco, her mouth open in shock, for a moment before walking towards him. He cringed away from her.

“Hello, Draco.” She stretched her hand out towards him. “Harry’s right. I would like to get to know you.”

Tentatively, Draco took her hand with his own and shook it. A small smile appeared on his lips. “I think I would like to get to know you, too.”

Something flickered in Ron’s eyes. Before he could say anything, a voice called up the stairs. 

“‘Ermione! Ginny! Mrs. Weasley ees asking for your ‘elp!”

Ron and Ginny spoke at once.

“Phlegm!” 

“Fleur!”

Harry chuckled as he looked at his friend’s faces. Both Ginny and Hermione had scrunched up their faces in frustration. Ron, however, had a dreamy look spread across his. 

“Fleur Delacour,” Hermione explained, turning away from Draco. “She and Bill are engaged, and she’s been staying here to ‘get to know the family’. But she’s been so frustrating!” She sighed. “Come on Ginny, we’d better get down before she comes up here herself.” With a last glance at Harry, the two girls left the room.

As the door closed behind them, Ron bolted across the room, an angry look in his eyes. He threw himself onto Draco’s bed and pinned the boy to the wall behind him.

“Listen,” he snarled, “Harry might trust you but I don’t. You say one thing, just one thing to Hermione, or to my sister, that I don’t like, and I’ll curse you into a thousand pieces. Got it?”

Draco squirmed, his eyes bulging. Harry barrelled after Ron.

“Get off of him!” Harry shouted. Ron didn’t listen as his friend pulled at him “I mean it Ron, get off!”

“Not until he promises he won’t hurt Hermione!” Ron yelled back.

“I won’t, okay?” Draco gasped. “I won’t do anything to her. Or to your family. I promise!”

Ron let go of Draco but didn’t back away. “How do I know you’re serious?” he asked suspiciously. “How do I know you’re any different than you’ve always been?”

Draco met Ron’s stare with one of his own. “I’m here aren’t I?” his voice seethed with a mixture of anger and fear. He rubbed his arm where Ron had grabbed it, wincing.

Ron’s eyes widened as he grabbed at Draco again and ripped his sleeve down “Then what the bloody hell is that?” he yelled, pinning Draco against the wall with his shoulder. “You’re one of them! You pretending to be Harry’s friend so you can get close and kill him? Waiting to get Hermione too, since she’s not a pure blood like you? Or is it all of us you’re after, a bunch of blood traitors to prove yourself to You-Know-Who?” Draco kicked and struggled to get away, but Ron had too strong a hold on him. 

“Ron! Stop, now!” Harry shouted, “Get off of him! You have no idea-”

Draco got in a good kick as Harry finally managed to pull Ron off. The two boys collapsed to the floor wrestling as Draco sank back into the bed. He yanked his sleeve back down, screwing up his face in pain as blood started to trickle down his arm. 

Below him Harry had pinned Ron to the floor and was shouting at him. “-could never understand! Stop being an idiot and give him half a chance!” 

Draco shook his head. “Harry, he’s your friend! Don’t fight over me!”

Harry let go of Ron’s flailing arms and turned to Draco. “No, he has no right to treat you like that.” He looked back at Ron. “At least give him the chance to explain things, when he’s ready, before you jump all over him!”

Ron nodded gruffly at Harry. “Fine, but it had better be one hell of an explanation.” He sat up as Harry moved off of him. 

Just at that moment Hermione burst through the door, waving a pile of sealed envelopes. 

“Our O.W.L.S!” she shouted. “They’ve just arrived!” she glanced around the room. “What happened?” she asked, concern in her voice. “Draco, is that blood?”

Harry swiveled around and grabbed Draco’s arm. “Get your mother,” he hissed to Ron as he saw the blood trickling onto his fingers.

Draco cringed as Harry pulled his sleeve back up, exposing his Mark to Hermione. He looked at the girl imploringly. “It’s not what you think,” he muttered. 

Hermione paused for a moment, fear flickering in her eyes, before she sat down next to Draco.

“Those cuts look deep,” she mused. “The stitches were a good idea, but it’s going to take a while for them to heal. You must have lost a lot of blood. How are you feeling?”

Draco smiled weakly at her. “The cuts hurt. I felt really sick and weak yesterday, but Mrs. Weasley gave me a blood replenishing potion last night. I feel alright now.”

Hermione’s hands were shaking as she checked the cuts. “It looks like only this one is open. The rest seem to be healing better. Maybe the stitches weren’t as good on this one.”

“That was the first one I did,” Harry said. “I don’t think I pulled it tight enough.”

Hermione ran her fingers gently over the other cuts. “I think these ones are okay-”

Mrs. Weasley burst into the room, Ron, Ginny and Fleur trailing behind her. Draco grimaced as they all glanced down at his arm. 

“Let me get a look at that,” Mrs. Weasley said as she gently shooed Harry and Hermione away. “I didn’t get the chance to take a good look last night.” She looked up at the rest of the room. “Why don’t you all head downstairs? Breakfast is almost ready.”

Harry backed out of the room slowly and followed his friends to the kitchen. They sat down around the table as Fleur busied herself finishing the breakfast. 

Finally Ginny broke the silence. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”

Ron snickered and Harry shot him a dirty look. “Those cuts,” he said, “he tried to cut it off. Just- let him explain before you start thinking things. There’s more to it than you know.”

Fleur cleared her throat. “Oo would like some breakfast?”

Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen as Harry reached for his second piece of toast, followed closely by Draco. The edge of a fresh bandage peeked out from beneath his sleeve. His right hand was clutching four sealed envelopes. 

“The O.W.L.S.!” Hermione shrieked. “I forgot all about them!” She dropped her fork and reached for her envelope. Draco quickly passed two others to Harry and Ron before sitting down next to Harry, his own clutched in his hand. 

“On three?” Hermione asked breathlessly, looking around the table. “One, two, three!”

Four sets of fingers ripped their envelopes open and nervously unfolded the papers inside. Harry gazed down at his, feeling quite satisfied. He had received five Exceptionals, and even an Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had failed both Divination and History of Magic; but he had expected as much. With a twinge he realized that he did not have the required mark to continue Potions. He glanced at Draco’s paper next to him and gave a low whistle.

 

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

 

Pass Grades:

| 

Fail Grades:  
  
---|---  
  
Outstanding (O)

| 

Poor (P)  
  
Exceeds Expectations (E)

| 

Dreadful (D)  
  
Acceptable (A)

| 

Troll (T)  
  
 

DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY HAS ACHIEVED:

 

Ancient Runes

| 

O  
  
---|---  
  
Astronomy

| 

E  
  
Care of Magical Creatures

| 

A  
  
Charms

| 

O  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts

| 

O  
  
Herbology

| 

E  
  
History of Magic

| 

E  
  
Potions 

| 

O  
  
Transfiguration

| 

O  
  
 

 

“Wow,” he said, “I always thought Snape was just favouring you. You should seriously think about Ravenclaw.” 

“Well I’m not going to Hufflepuff,” Draco smirked, some of his old confidence returning. 

“You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?” Ron’s voice echoed from across the table. Harry looked at Hermione as she bit her lip. 

“Nine Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations in Defence Against the Dark Arts!” Ron exclaimed, motioning wildly to Hermione’s paper. “And she’s actually disappointed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope that you're enjoying this story. I should be posting updates pretty regularly.  
> Let me know what you think of it in the comments. I love to hear people's thoughts about my writing, no matter what they are. I'm always hoping to improve and critique is the best way to do that.


	3. The Burrow

After breakfast there was a tense silence as the five teenagers sat at the table, avoiding each other’s eyes. Finally, Ginny suggested a trip to the orchard, and perhaps a friendly game of Quidditch. Relieved, the others followed her outside. 

The situation in the orchard was no less awkward. Considering Ron’s earlier outburst Harry was not eager to play Quidditch, and no one else had any ideas of how to spend their day. Eventually they stretched out in the sun, Harry, Ron and Ginny chatting lazily while Draco and Hermione read books. The hours passed slowly.

The sun was dipping down in the sky when Draco sighed and sat up. 

“Listen,” he said, his voice shattering the silence, “I owe all of you an explanation.”

Ron sat up immediately, moving closer to Hermione’s side. Ginny blinked once and then rolled over, her head in her hands. Harry moved to sit beside Draco. 

“I know you all saw my arm this morning.” Though Draco’s voice sounded confident, he was shaking. “You need to know, I’m not one of them. Or at least- I don’t want to be.” He stopped and blinked back tears.

“Are you saying you don’t believe all that stuff about purebloods anymore?” Ron asked suspiciously. 

Draco looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what I believe,” he muttered. “I ran away, because I was scared. All I know is that I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to answer to Him.” He scratched at his arm absently. 

Ron scowled. “How do we know you’re telling the truth, Malfoy?”

“Because I believe him,” Harry cut in. “And so does Dumbledore.”

Ron’s scowl deepened. Before he could say anything more Ginny cut in.

“Did it hurt? Getting the Mark?” she shrugged away the questioning glances. “I’ve always been curious.”

Draco sighed and rubbed at his arm again. “Yeah,” he answered, “more than anything I’ve ever felt. Even more than the Cruciatus curse. It hurts now too. Every time someone uses theirs it turns black and it burns.” He glanced around the group and then pulled his sleeve up to show the bottom part of the grotesque mark. “Like this. Its supposed to summon me. The more I try to ignore it the more it hurts.”

Silently Ginny stood up and paced away. Draco’s arm fell to his side, hopelessness written across his face. 

A moment later Harry heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Ginny, now with a handful of brooms, emerging from a small shed behind them. She walked back to the group.

“There’s five of us,” the red-haired girl observed. “How should we divide the teams?”

The next week was spent mostly in the orchard playing Quidditch. Harry and Draco were both quite good, and Ron and Ginny were coming along nicely. Hermione, however, was dreadful, and often watched the games with a book in hand. On the occasions that she was convinced to join in she warbled around the field gracelessly, generally missing the quaffle altogether.

It would almost have been a relaxing summer holiday if it hadn’t been for the constant reports of disappearances and deaths. As Death Eaters wreaked havoc on the muggle world, those living in the Burrow quickly began to scan the papers anxiously every time the Dark Mark engraved on Draco’s arm burned.

It was Thursday morning when Harry woke up with tears streaming down his face. With a shock he noticed Draco sitting up in bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. He also seemed to be crying.

“Draco-” Harry began softly.

“You were screaming.” Draco’s voice was muffled by his knees. “I didn’t know if I should wake you or not.” He looked up. “Was- was it Sirius?”

Harry nodded. “You?”

“My mother. And the Dark Lord. I dream about him most nights. It’s the ones with her that...” his voice trailed off.

“I dream about him too,” Harry whispered. “I think I usually sleep through it. But Sirius...”

Draco nodded in understanding. Both boys collapsed onto their beds and stared up at the ceiling. 

The morning dawned cloudy and wet, squelching any hope of playing Quidditch. Instead the group settled around the living room to play one of the card games that Harry had taught to Draco. Ginny disappeared to her room, muttering something about writing a letter to Dean Thomas. 

Ron slapped his card down.

“Uno.” Draco called out from across the table. He smirked at Ron. “You have to pick up four cards.”

“Not fair!” Ron protested. “I was going to say it!”

Draco’s smirk widened. “That’s the rule of the game.”

Harry chuckled at Ron’s frustrated face. “Sorry Ron, he’s right.”

Ron huffed as he picked up the cards. “You’ve all played this before, I’m still just learning!”

Hermione set down her card. “Uno!”

Harry shuffled the cards in his hand. He snuck a glance towards Draco. “Pick up two!” 

Draco grinned as he pulled cards from the pile. “You’re going to regret that,” he quipped. 

Just then they heard a knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley bustled past as Harry and Ron stood to see who it was.

“Remus, it’s a pleasure to see you!” 

“You as well, Molly,” a soft voice replied. The figure at the door leaned in to whisper something that Harry couldn’t hear.  

Remus Lupin stepped into the living room dripping wet, his face more gaunt and his clothes more patched than ever. Smiling, he held out a hand.

“Harry! Ron, Hermione, it’s good to see you all again. How has your summer been?” He turned towards the corner of the room, where a sudden movement had caught his eye. “Draco, it’s a pleasure to see you. How have my brightest students been faring?”

Harry stepped up to shake his former professor’s hand. “Professor Lupin! We’ve all been having a great time here.”

Before anyone else could speak Mrs. Weasley had returned to the room and was ushering them upstairs. “Now, now, we’re having a meeting of the Order down here in just a few minutes,” she tutted as she rapped on Ginny’s door. “I don’t want any of you listening in. That means no extendable ears, Ginevra!”

Ginny glared at her mother from the open doorway and followed the others to Fred and George’s room. Mrs. Weasley shut the door tightly on them just as another knock sounded from the front door. 

“I hate to seem uninformed, but what’s going on?” drawled Draco. 

Hermione perched on the edge of an unopened box marked WWW. “The Order of the Phoenix, the group that fights Voldemort.” Ron and Draco both winced at the name. “They’re using this as their base, and they have a meeting today. Fred and George joined this year, but we’re not allowed to yet because we’re underage.” There was a hint of remorse in her voice. 

Draco frowned as he rubbed at his forearm. “Those are lovely principles.” he said sarcastically. “I wish the Dark Lord thought the same way.”

Harry pressed his ear to the door, motioning the others to be quiet. He frowned. “What is Snape still doing in the Order after everything that happened last year?”

Draco inhaled sharply. “Professor Snape?”

“Harry, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione answered. 

Everyone’s attention was drawn to Draco as he punched the wall. “Well, the Dark Lord trusts him too, so one of them is wrong!”

“He is a Death Eater?” Harry asked eagerly. Draco nodded. “I told you Hermione! We should go down there right now and-”

“Harry! We already knew that he goes to the meetings with the Death Eaters! He’s spying for Dumbledore!” 

“Hermione, what if he’s spying for the Death Eaters?” Ron asked hotly. “He could be-”

Ron was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley’s voice came from the other side. 

“We’re trying to have a meeting downstairs! Stop shouting or I will have to send you all to your rooms!”

“Sorry,” Ginny mumbled back. The scowl on her face grew as her mother’s footsteps faded away. 

“I still say we can’t trust him,” Harry hissed. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh give it a break Harry. Come on, let’s find something better to do.”

Ginny pulled a cardboard box towards her. “I’ve been curious about these for a while. Fred and George are storing them here until they’re ready for the shop. Let’s see what’s inside!” Harry noticed the mischievous smile playing at the edges of her lips and pulled a box toward himself. 

“C’mon Draco, take a box,” Ron goaded. “It’s not like they’re going to bite!”

Just at that moment there was a loud pop! And Hermione let out a muffled screech. She pulled something that looked like a telescope away from her face. A tiny fist hung from the end of it, bouncing wildly on a spring.

“It punched me!” She exclaimed, her hand moving up to cover her eye. “I squeezed it and it punched me!” As she pulled back her hand a large purple welt was forming. 

“Let me see that,” Draco said, pulling out his wand. “I’m pretty good at fixing bruises.” He leaned towards Hermione’s face.

“Draco!” Harry and Ron shouted at the same moment. Draco turned towards them with a confused expression.

“You can’t do magic outside school!” Ron exclaimed. “Not unless you’ve been lying about your age!”

“Don’t tell me your parents take that bit about underage magic seriously?” Draco scoffed. 

“Don’t yours?” Ginny asked incredulously.

“Of course not! The trace only really works for mu-” he glanced back towards Hermione and choked over his next word. “For muggleborns. It tracks location, not the person actually doing the magic. Harry would get caught at his house. Here no one would notice.”

Ron had a glazed look in his eyes. “You mean, I could’ve been doing magic all this time and no one would’ve known?”

Hermione poked him in the side. “Don’t even think about it! Your dad works for the ministry!”

“Besides,” Harry said, “It’s not exactly fun to sit in a trial wondering if they’re going to let you go back to Hogwarts or not. Trust me.”

“Still though...” Ginny said, a greedy look in her eye. “It would be fun to hex Fred and George. Or Phlegm.” She grimaced at the name. 

“Can I fix your eye or not?” Draco asked gruffly.

Hermione sighed. “I would love that Draco, but you really shouldn’t. I’ll wait until dinner time and ask Mrs. Weasley.”

* * *

By the time Mrs. Weasley called for dinner Harry was getting seriously worried about Hermione’s eye. The small purple ring had darkened and grown to the point where she now resembled half a panda. 

As the group trooped into the kitchen they were met with many stares. Harry glanced around the long table, taking in Mad-Eye Moody, Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred, George, and Bill Weasley, Fleur, and- he shuddered- Snape. All eyes were trained behind him at the blonde figure stepping through the door. 

“Malfoy,” Mad-Eye nodded as he stepped past in the direction of the door. “Nice to see you here.” Any colour left in Draco’s already-pale face drained.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Snape followed Mad-Eye, thanking the Weasleys for their hospitality. As Snape reached Draco he paused. 

“I would like a word with you, Malfoy, in the other room.”

Draco followed him nervously. Harry watched as they walked away, then mumbled quickly, “Bathroom,” before following them. He paused behind an open door as Snape turned.

“Draco, I am glad to see that you are faring well. Your mother has been quite worried about you.”

Harry could just see Draco as he stood stiffly. “I’m not going back there. No matter what you say!”

“I am not here to convince you to do so. I wish only to convey a message. Your mother is well, and she misses you very much.”

Draco’s posture stayed stiff. “Thank you professor.”

“I also wished to speak to you about the upcoming school year. Professor Dumbledore has informed me that you will be changing houses. I want to ensure you that, should you wish to, you are welcome to remain in my classes.”

“Is that all professor?”

“One more thing. Neither the Dark Lord nor his servants will hear of your location from me. The safety of my students is of paramount importance.” Harry heard Snape’s robes rustle as he walked towards the door. The handle creaked as it was turned. “Oh, and Draco? Tell Potter that it’s rude to listen at doors.” 

As the door shut Draco emerged from the room. “Harry.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe.” 

“Thanks.” Draco wiped a hand over his forehead and fell back against the wall. 

“It’s been a tough day,” Harry observed.

“I’ve been scared, ever since that dream…” He stared blankly ahead. “When Snape said he wanted to talk I thought he was going to say she’s dead.”

Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulder. 

“Is this what it’s like,” Draco’s quiet voice broke the silence, “to have a friend?

Harry nodded and smiled widely. 

* * *

George was smirking when Harry and Draco got back to the kitchen. Hermione was sitting in a chair, her eye more swollen than ever, while Mrs. Weasley looked perplexed. “How did you do it?” she asked her son angrily.

“Just a charm, mum, honest,” George answered. “Fred’s gone to find the antidote, it’s the only thing that’ll take it off.”

There was a scurrying at the door and Fred burst in, a small container in his hand. He hurried over to Hermione and started dabbing it on her eye. 

“Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t try healing her earlier,” Harry smirked. Draco furrowed his eyebrows, then, with a shake of his head, poked Harry in the side.

“Ow!” Harry rubbed at the spot as he laughed. Draco’s sense of humour had improved massively over the past few weeks. 

Mrs. Weasley stood up when it became evident that the cream was working. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes,” she declared. “Make sure that you’re washed up and ready. Ginny, could you help me slice these carrots?”

Ginny huffed and looked pointedly at Draco as she picked up the knife. “It would be so much more efficient if I could use magic,” she muttered under her breath. 

From across the table Fred and George were glaring daggers at Draco. They passed something between their hands as the blonde boy stepped over to them. 

“Fred, George,” Draco began hesitantly, “I, um… Could I talk to you? Just for a moment.” His cheeks turned bright red as the twins eyed him suspiciously.

“Sure,” said Fred. “Let’s just go out to the hall then.”

Harry poked Draco as he walked past. “Don’t take anything from them. Yell if you need help.”

As the three boys disappeared from the kitchen Bill beckoned to Harry. “How has your summer been?”

“Really good. The Dursleys were awful as normal, but it was really nice having Draco around. They were more scared of him than of me.”

Bill smiled. “I’m glad you’ve been enjoying yourself!” Before Harry knew it he was deep in conversation with Bill and Lupin.

As promised, Mrs. Weasley called everyone together for dinner a few minutes later. Harry smiled as Draco returned with Fred and George; their arms were clasped around him as the three laughed together. He knew that Draco must have told them about their inadvertent help in his escape from Malfoy Manor. 

“Your book lists should be arriving tomorrow morning,” Bill said between bites. “Dad and I both have the day off work, and the ministry is going to send cars to take all of us to Diagon Alley.”

Ginny looked up. “Fantastic, I’ve been wanting to see Fred and George’s shop!”

Fred smirked. “It really is pretty great, wouldn’t you agree George?”

“Top notch. Best joke shop in all of London!”

Bill smiled. “There’ll also be an auror coming along. Probably Kingsley. He’ll take Harry and Draco first, since they both need to get into their vaults and Gringott’s is a mess right now.”

Harry grimaced at the idea of an auror escorting them through the streets of Diagon Alley. He really would rather go alone. Once he glanced over at Draco, though, he realized that it really would be best for them to be accompanied. Now the Death Eaters would be looking for both of them. 

* * *

The owls arrived during breakfast; five of them, each carrying a sealed envelope. As Harry unfolded his a small silver pin fell into his hand.

“Look!” he exclaimed, holding it up,”I’ve been made captain of the Quidditch team!”

“That’s brilliant Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. “That puts you equal with Prefects! You can use our special bathroom and everything!” Harry beamed with pride. 

“Eat quickly boys,” Mrs. Weasley urged Harry and Draco. “The car from the ministry will be here for you any minute.” 

It wasn’t long before Harry and Draco were seated comfortably in the backseat of a Ministry car. Kingsley Shacklebolt was seated beside Harry, assigned to protect the two boys for the day. 

“We’ll visit Gringotts first,” the Auror was saying. “I can get you in more quickly than the general public, but it could still be a wait of several hours.” Harry grimaced. “We will meet with the Weasleys afterwards. There shouldn’t be as much need for me to stay close after that.”

Harry watched out the window as the Leaky Cauldron came into view. A large figure in a hideous, shaggy jacket came into view. 

“Hagrid!” Harry cried as he scrambled out of the car. “I didn’t know that you would be here!”

“Course I’m here Harry! Someone’s got to keep an eye on all of you, can’t expect Kingsley to manage it alone, can yeh?”

Harry laughed as the group moved through the pub. With a shock, he noticed that the bar, normally a popular location, was completely empty. Tom, the bartender, looked up eagerly as Hagrid approached. 

“Sorry, Tom, nothin fer me today. Hogwart’s business yeh know.”

The group walked through the pub and stepped through the entrance to Diagon Alley. Expecting to see it bright and bustling as usual, Harry was taken aback to see many of the shops closed. Kingsley noticed his shocked glances. 

“There’s been a lot of disappearances in the last few weeks. Florean Fortescue, Ollivander. Lots of people have been packing up and leaving the country too.”

Harry glanced at the empty shop windows as they passed. Most were covered with posters; wanted posters of witches and wizards cackling silently, safety reminders, and Ministry guidelines. Halfway down the street was a large picture of a witch with wild brown hair dancing madly under a banner that declared: Wanted. Extremely Dangerous. Suspected to be in Possession of a Wand. Harry glanced at Draco as they passed, but his face showed no recognition of his aunt. 

Finally the group reached Gringotts. “Keep close together,” Kingsley muttered as he led them up the stairs, past the long line of witches and wizards waiting to access their vaults. 

The inside of the bank was ludicrously busy. Wizards and goblins bustled about everywhere, clutching money bags in their hands. Kingsley led them to a window behind which a goblin was scribbling madly on a piece of parchment. 

“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy for their vaults. This is official Auror business.”

The goblin looked up with a scowl. “Keys?” Harry and Draco held them up. “That line there,” the goblin motioned. 

Harry looked at the indicated line. It wasn’t long and mostly contained members of the Ministry. He followed as Kingsley stepped behind another man wearing Auror robes. 

“Morning, Dwight,” Kingsley greeted as Hagrid pushed in behind the boys. “How are things with Luc and the kids?”  
“Doing well. Peter just started walking on his own the other day!” 

Harry’s face fell at the name Peter. An ache awoke deep inside of him for his godfather Sirius. Why should the rat Peter Pettigrew get to live after betraying so many of his friends?

The line moved surprisingly quickly, and before Harry knew it he and Draco were settling into a cart behind Kingsley. Hagrid waited for them aboveground, as he did not fit into the cart with the others. Soon the cart was zooming down the track at a dizzying speed.

“Draco Malfoy,” their goblin escort said as the cart pulled to a stop. “This way.”

Harry recognized the corridor that they had stopped in; his vault was just around the corner. Unfolding himself from the cart he followed Draco and Kingsley as they stopped in front of a large door. Draco pulled the key from his pocket and inserted it into the ornate lock. 

“Wow,” Harry gasped as he saw the inside of the vault. It was brimming with gold; piles of it stretched to the ceiling. “I knew your family’s rich, but this is incredible!”

Draco looked at him quizzically. “This is nothing compared to my parent’s vault. Besides, didn’t you inherit everything from Black? You might be surprised how much is in your own vault now.”

Kingsley stepped between the boys and handed them each a small money bag. “These have been enlarged with undetectable extension charms. I suggest that you both take out as much as you can, as you may not have the opportunity to return again for some time.”

Draco took the bag and disappeared into his vault. A few minutes later he returned, the small bag bulging. The party followed the goblin around a bend in the track, where Harry produced his own key and pulled open the door to his vault. 

Draco was right; Harry was surprised to see how much had been added to his vault. He had never realized how wealthy Sirius had been. He stepped inside and quickly began scooping galleons into his bag. He added a handful each of Sickles and Knuts on top and pulled it closed. 

Back outside Kingsley stopped to check the time. 

“The Weasleys won’t be here for another hour,” he remarked. “Is there anything special that you need to buy that the others might not require?” he looked at Draco.

“I need everything,” Draco’s eyebrows drew close together. “I don’t have any school robes, or even a trunk or cauldron.”

An hour later Harry and Draco were weaving through the maze of temporary stalls that lined Diagon Alley selling protective amulets and enchantments. Kingsley followed close behind, levitating a trunk containing Draco’s new cauldron and potions ingredients. Hagrid trailed behind, apologizing heartedly as he bumped into vendors in the crowded street. 

* * *

A flash of red caught Harry’s attention. Ginny. As she turned and saw him something gripped at his heart; a feeling that he didn’t understand soared through him at the sight of her bright hair, her brown eyes sparkling in the sun. He gulped as she rushed towards him.

“Harry, there you are!”

“Yeah, right here, just waiting for you.” He resisted the urge to fling his arms around her as Hermione and Ron rushed up. Bill and Mr. Weasley stood close behind. 

Kingsley gave a gentle cough. “I’ll send this ahead to the Weasley’s,” he indicated the trunk as he gave a brilliant flick of his wand. “You five are free to continue your shopping, as long as you stay within sight of one of us at all times.” He indicated himself, Hagrid, and the two Weasley men. 

“Brilliant,” declared Ron. “Where should we go first?”

Soon the group found themselves squeezing into Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions as Hagrid waited outside. Hermione browsed dress robes as Draco was fitted for his new school robes. 

“This is quite lovely, don’t you think?” Ginny held a set of deep blue robes up to herself. Harry found himself fighting a sudden urge to buy it for her. 

“That would look fantastic on you. I’m sure Dean would love it.” Hermione agreed teasingly. “I’ve always fancied purple myself. Especially lilac.” She pulled out a shimmering silver robe. “Ooh, I think I’ll have to try this on!”

“Ow!” Draco exclaimed from across the store. Harry peered around a rack to see what had happened. “Be careful with those pins!” He rubbed his left arm as Madam Malkin apologized. Gently, she began repinning the sleeve. 

Finally they trouped out of the store clutching their packages. Hermione had bought a lovely new set of dress robes. Harry, Ron and Ginny each had one new set of plain black work robes, and Draco carried four matching sets. They passed their packages off to Hagrid and headed to Flourish and Blott’s for their new textbooks. 

A good many more packages had been added to the ones Hagrid was carrying when the group was finished with their shopping. Fred and George’s shop had been simply astounding, filled with every joke item imaginable. In a special back room the twins had shown Harry their stash of muggle magic tricks, as well as items imbued with protection charms that they were developing for the Ministry. Harry had been impressed at their proficiency with spells. By the time they returned to the Burrow it was already dark.

Harry spent the last weeks of the summer in a happy bliss, surrounded by his closest friends and his favourite activities. The Burrow became a shelter from the atrocities surrounding them, a bright hideaway in an otherwise dark world. Now that he had been away from Malfoy Manor for some time Draco was more relaxed than ever, and seemed happy, truly happy, to enjoy his time with the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione. Ron had warmed up considerably to the blond boy and had even begun to joke with him, finding that they weren't quite so different as they had previously thought. As Draco explained the Muggle contraptions that Harry had shown him Ron whistled in amusement. Harry and Hermione laughed at the two boys, astounded by simple things like microwaves and dishwashers. Ron seemed particularly excited at the idea of a movie, and begged his parents to let Harry take him to one.

The cuts on Draco’s arm were slow to heal, but thanks to the ministrations of Mrs. Weasley they began to improve, scars forming as a reminder of what had happened. His Mark continued to burn and hurt regularly.

Harry continued to have nightmares. Most nights he would jerk awake, sweat pouring down his face as the blankets twisted viciously around him. From across the room he often heard Draco sobbing into his pillow, awoken by his own unpleasant dreams. 

The morning of September first was a whirlwind of preparations in the Weasley home. With five of its inhabitants returning to school there was a large pile of trunks waiting at the door when the Ministry cars arrived to escort them safely to King’s Cross. Mr. Weasley had briefed Harry and Draco the night before about the security measures that would be put into place for them on their journey to school. In addition to providing cars, the Ministry was sending a team of aurors to see the boys safely onto the Hogwarts Express and to deal with any situations that arose due to either of their presence. Harry was glad to know that, for once, he was not the main reason for this protection. The Ministry suspected that some of the Death Eaters who had children at Hogwarts might try to attack Draco as he boarded the train.

Even with its extending charm the car was crowded as Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Ginny and Bill slid in. A second car carried Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well as the two aurors. Even with the five trunks divided between the cars Harry had to hold Hedwig's cage on his lap, a difficult feat when Hermione’s ginger cat Crookshanks was prowling around their laps. 

After a tense drive the two cars pulled up to King’s Cross Station. The aurors positioned themselves around Harry and Draco as the trunks were unloaded and stacked onto carts. Finally, with a sigh and a glance at her wristwatch (which read quarter to 11), Mrs. Weasley led the way through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾. 

The station was bustling as Harry stepped through with an auror, followed closely by Draco and the second escort. After taking a moment to say goodbye to the Weasleys the boys were hurried onto the train and into an empty compartment. Ron and Hermione followed, dragging their trunks, before dashing off to the prefect’s car. Ginny wandered off in search of Dean as the train pulled away from the station. 

Draco glanced warily down the hall before shutting the compartment window and settling into a seat.

Harry ran a hand through his wild hair. “Well, guess I won’t be convincing anyone that I’m not the chosen one,” he laughed nervously. 

“At least people will be looking up to you. A quarter of the school is going to be out to get me all year.” 

Harry looked at Draco. For the first time he noticed the bags under the pale boy’s eyes and the gaunt expression on his face. “You know you’ll be safe right? Dumbledore won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t know everything that happens at Hogwarts,” Draco answered in a tired voice. “If anyone can get to me it’ll be the Slytherins.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Have you decided which house you’re going to join yet? It’s just- I mean, you could join Gryffindor. Ron and I would be happy to have you, and Neville’s really great. Dean and Seamus can be tossers but we mostly ignore them. None of us would let anything happen to you.”

Draco snorted and looked away. “I’m not brave. Besides, the others would never accept me. Have you forgotten what my aunt did to Longbottom’s parents? I’m sure he hasn’t.”

There was a sudden knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice. “Harry, are you in there?”

Grinning widely, Harry threw open the door. Right on cue, Neville tramped in, followed closely by Luna Lovegood. 

“Hello Harry!” the blond girl greeted. “It’s good to see you. I see your head is full of nargles.” She turned to the other occupant of the compartment. “Oh, hello Draco. Surprise to see you here. Have a good summer?”

Draco blanched at the sudden interaction. Neville stood frozen to the spot, his mouth hanging open as he stared towards the unexpected visitor.

“Neville,” Harry said, forcing him to look away from Draco. “It’s good to see you.”

Neville stared blankly at Harry. “What is he doing here?” he stabbed a finger towards Draco.

“Draco’s been staying with me and the Weasleys for the summer. He’s-”

Ignoring Harry, Neville pulled his wand from his pocket. “If you hurt any of my friends-” he gestured menacingly towards Draco.

Draco stared at Neville defiantly for a moment before lowering his head and holding out his hands. “Listen, Longbottom, I’m sorry. I know what my family has done to yours, and I know what I’ve done to you. I deserve whatever you give me.”

Neville’s wand wavered for a moment as he glanced between Harry and Draco. “Did Malfoy just apologize to me?” He lowered his wand to his side. 

Draco seized the opportunity and launched into a quick explanation of the previous months. Harry noticed that he failed to mention his Dark Mark.

Satisfied by the boy’s explanation, Luna sat in the seat beside him. She reached into the bag she was carrying to pull out a copy of the Quibbler. “It was really brave of you to apologize.”

Harry gave Draco a pointed look as Neville settled in across from Luna. 

Ron and Hermione had just returned when a Hufflepuff girl knocked at the door. “Messages from Professor Slughorn!”

Harry opened the door and took three pieces of parchment from the girl’s hand.

“Neville, Draco, there are for you. He handed the papers around before unfolding his own.

 

_ Harry _

_ I would be delighted if you would join me for a bit of lunch in compartment C. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Professor H.E.F. Slughorn _

 

“Who is Slughorn?” Neville asked.

“New professor,” Harry answered. “We went with Dumbledore to meet him over the summer. What do you think he wants?”

Draco snorted. “Probably to ‘collect’ us into his little club. Before you know it we’ll be pictures on his mantle.”

Harry laughed at the memory of their first meeting with the strange man. “We should probably go anyways. Don’t want to make him mad at us before classes even start.” He looked at Neville. 

“Fine,” Draco huffed. “But if he invited the three of us I bet there’ll be others too. I’m not responsible for anything that happens if there’s other Slytherins.”

“That’s fair,” Ron cut in. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to see them eventually. Might as well be now.”

The three boys attracted a lot of attention in the corridors. Students stopped in the halls, whispering behind their hands as Harry approached. Others peeked out of compartments, gesturing madly to their friends to watch as they walked by. 

When they arrived at Compartment C they saw that there had indeed been others invited. Harry saw Ginny first; she was sitting crammed into a corner nearly behind the large man who had summoned them. Casting his eyes around he saw three other boys. 

“Harry, pleasure to see you!” Slughorn’s voice boomed out. He gestured around the compartment. “Ah, I see that you have brought Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Malfoy with you. Please, gentlemen, take a seat.”

Harry’s eyes rested on a dark Slytherin boy in the back. As Draco entered the compartment the boy stood. 

“Zabini,” Draco greeted coolly. 

“Surprising to see you here,” Zabini spat back. “Get tired of living with the muggles? Filthy blood traitor.”

Draco’s wand was in his hand in an instant. Harry grabbed his arm before he could raise it. Slughorn made a strangled noise in his throat.

“Oh look, your little friend’s going to stop you.” Zabini pulled his own wand slowly from his sleeve. “What are you going to do now?”

Suddenly Zabini dropped his wand and pulled his fingers up to his nose. A panicked expression spread over his face. 

“Whab ib thib?” he shouted. “Wha’s habbening?” As he pulled his fingers away something came flying out of his nose. A moment later a second shape followed. As the shapes soared upwards they spread out, taking the form of bats. Harry glanced at Ginny and chuckled. 

“Ah, the bat bogey hex,” Professor Slughorn said with a small smile. “I invited this young lady after I saw her perform it on a particularly vexing young man. I am afraid, Mr. Zabini, that I shall have to ask you to leave until you are quite finished with expelling bats from your nose.”

Zabini clutched at his nose as he scrambled quickly out of the apartment. Draco gave him a sharp glare as he pulled the door open. “You’re lucky she got to you before me.”

The door clicked shut and Harry, Neville and Draco settled into the compartment. Soon Slughorn was passing around lunch items (brought from home; he found that the candy available from the trolley didn’t agree with his stomach) and interrogating his guests about their family connections and extraordinary talents. It wasn’t until the sky outside was quite dark that he noticed the time and sent the students to change into their school robes. 

As the train pulled to a stop Harry and Draco leapt off, followed closely by Neville and Luna. Earlier that week Draco had received a letter from Professor Dumbledore instructing him to take the first possible carriage to the school so that they could speak about his House choice before the Welcoming Feast. 

“The Thestrals look particularly happy today,” Luna said as the carriage started it’s bumpy journey. “I wonder if they remember us from last year?”

Draco glanced towards the front of the carriage. “Those horse things pull the carriages?” he asked in astonishment.

“Weren’t you listening in Care of Magical Creatures last year?” Harry said. 

“Not really. I was only half sure they were even real.”

“They’re definitely real,” Neville mumbled. “All the rest of us can see them.” 

The rest of the trip to the castle was silent. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry sat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. As soon as they had entered the castle Draco had been pulled aside by Professor Dumbledore. Neither had returned. 

It wasn’t until after the Sorting Ceremony (the Sorting Hat sang a rather short song this year, reminding students of the importance of the family they would form at Hogwarts) that Dumbledore strode back to his seat. Harry watched as Draco followed him, grasping something in his hand. Seeing Harry’s gaze, he waved the item in the air. A Ravenclaw tie. Beaming, the blonde boy sat next to Luna at the Ravenclaw table. Dumbledore stood to make his customary start of term announcement. 

“Greetings students old and new,” the Headmaster began. “As the new term starts there are several things that I find myself wanting to tell you. First of all, it falls to me to introduce our newest professor, who is actually rather an old professor. Horace Slughorn will be coming out of retirement for this year in order to return to his post as Potions Master.” Harry gasped. “As such, Professor Snape will now be taking the position left open in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“I thought Slughorn was teaching Defence!” Ron exclaimed. 

“So did I,” Harry nodded in agreement. “How can Dumbledore give it to Snape when he’s a Death Eater?”

Dumbledore continued, unphased by the flurry of whispers that had sprung up. “We welcome all of our staff, new and old, as they return to provide the excellent instruction that we have learned to expect from them. Now, before the feast, I have a reminder for all of the students of Hogwarts. These are troubled times; none of us can deny that. Evil has arisen and surrounds us on every side. But you must never lose hope.  For while hope lives on, even in the tiniest flicker in your heart, there is a chance. Hope is available to every student at Hogwarts, no matter their family, their past or their present situation. As darkness falls around us I wish for each of you to discover hope and to find it within yourself to choose it.” The Headmaster settled into his chair as applause rang through the Hall. 

Dinner was a sight to behold. Harry downed gallons of pumpkin juice as he stuffed himself full of rolls, roast, baked potatoes, stewed carrots, and mounds of treacle tart. As the feast disappeared from the table Professor McGonagall began her walk down the long table, distributing schedules. She saved the sixth years for last, as theirs would be the most complex. 

Finally Professor McGonagall reached the sixth years. She filled out schedules for Dean, Seamus, Neville, and the girls in Hermione’s dorm before turning to Harry, Ron and Hermione. “If you three could follow me for a moment, we will be working out your schedules with Professor Flitwick.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks as they followed their Head of House to where Professor Flitwick was standing with Draco and Luna. 

“Ah, there you are,” Professor Flitwick said. “Now, Minerva, it seems that the schedules should align easily enough. Mr. Malfoy will be taking several classes that I believe Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are not, but Miss Granger will be.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Then I leave these students in your capable hands. Please send them to bed when they are finished.” She turned and headed towards the door of the Great Hall. 

Harry gave Flitwick a confused look. “What did you mean about the schedules?”

“I understand that Mr. Malfoy has been staying with the three of you for a good deal of the summer. Professor Dumbledore has requested that we align his schedule with yours as much as possible. In light of the circumstances it seems a prudent course of action.”

Harry saw Draco shift awkwardly as Professor Flitwick laid out four blank timetables. “Now your base courses will be easy enough. Shall I assume that you are all continuing in Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology?” The four students nodded and saw the classes appear on their timetables. “Now, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, will you be continuing any other courses?”

Harry and Ron glanced at each other and shook their heads, feeling guilty that they would not be returning to Care of Magical Creatures. Their timetables seemed quite empty. 

“Then we will move onto Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger. I believe that both of you are interested in taking Potions, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy?” He tapped each schedule in turn. “Any others?”

Hermione asked to have Astronomy and History of Magic added to her schedule. Draco decided to drop both courses. Professor Flitwick handed over the completed schedules. 

“Now, I am afraid that it is quite time for bed,” he said as he looked around at the assembled students. Luna still stood next to Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, if you will follow me, I will show you the way to Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco hesitated. “Actually, Professor, I would really like to talk to my friends for a moment, if it’s possible.”

Professor Flitwick nodded in understanding and glanced at Luna. “I’m sure that Miss Lovegood is more than capable of showing you the way. I will be waiting when you arrive. Don’t be too long.” 

Harry smiled at Draco as Professor Flitwick left the Great Hall. “Ravenclaw! Good choice. You can come see us all the time with Luna.”

Draco smiled tightly. “I know you wanted me to pick Gryffindor. And really, I thought about it. You’ve all been so nice to me when I didn’t deserve it. But I don’t belong there.” His smile became a smirk. “ And besides, I don’t want to have to explain myself over and over as each one of you pulls out your wand and threatens me.” 

Harry chuckled. “We’ll miss you Draco. Believe it or not I’ll even miss sharing a room with you. But you’ll always be welcome in Gryffindor, and it looks like we’ll have plenty of classes together. If anything, your OWLS proved that you belong there.”

The group walked together as far as they could before Draco and Luna had to turn away towards Ravenclaw tower. 

* * *

 

Harry and Ron burst into the Potions classroom, breathing hard from their run. Professor Slughorn gave them a bemused look.

“Running late boys? No worries. Pick a seat and pull out your books.”

Harry glanced around the room. Only ten other students had made it into the Potions NEWT. Hermione and Draco were sitting with a Hufflepuff boy, four Ravenclaws were sitting in a small cluster at the front, and three Slytherins were in the back glaring at Draco. 

“I’m afraid we don’t have books sir,” Ron said. “We only just found out that we could take the class now.”

“No problem. There are some old books in the cupboard. You can use those until you order new ones.”

Harry settled into his seat as Ron went to get the books. With a grimace, Harry noticed that the one his friend handed to him was old and tattered. 

“Why do you get the nice book?”

“Because I’m the one who grabbed them,” Ron muttered under his breath.

“But this one’s full of scribbles!”

Draco glanced at Harry’s defaced book. “Does it say who it belonged to? Maybe the scribbles are useful.”

Harry shrugged and turned to the front. 

 

**This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince**

 

was written in the same flowing script as the rest of the writing in the book.

“Well that clears things up,” Ron snorted in amusement. Harry turned back to the page they had been working from just as a Sopophorous bean whizzed past his nose. 

“Sorry Harry,” Hermione gasped as she flung herself after it. “It keeps flying away when I try to cut it!”  
Harry gazed at one of the strange annotations in his book. “Try crushing it with the flat of your blade,” he said, performing the maneuver on his own bean “Whoever this Prince is says that it releases the juices better.”

Hermione glared at Harry. “I will follow the instructions, thank you!” She stabbed her blade through the bean. 

By the end of the class Harry was smiling. He smirked at Hermione as Professor Slughorn handed him the vial of Felix Felicis promised to any person who could brew the potion correctly. After his dismal failure at nonverbal spells in Defence Against the Dark Arts that morning, he was pleased to have something to show for the day’s efforts. 

The term passed by in a lazy sort of way. Draco had the password to the Gryffindor common room (Professor McGonagall had given a lecture to the Gryffindor students making it very clear that they were to accept him without a fight) and Hermione had become quite good at answering the riddles to Ravenclaw tower, so that they saw quite a bit of each other. Harry had managed to get detention with Snape almost immediately, but it had been rescheduled to make way for the first of what Dumbledore promised would be many private lessons with the Headmaster himself. 

It was the second of these lessons that they were discussing in Herbology on a Tuesday morning in October. 

“Dumbledore just set his wardrobe on fire?” Ron nearly shouted in amazement. Harry shushed him and glanced around to see if anyone else had heard. Dumbledore had given him explicit instructions to only share the contents of these lessons with Ron, Hermione, and Draco. 

“Muffliato,” Draco muttered, casting a useful spell that they had found in Harry’s Potions textbook. “Why is Dumbledore showing you these memories Harry?”

“I’m not really sure,” Harry admitted. “But when I left, I recognized the ring. The one that Marvolo Gaunt was so proud of in the first memories. It’s in Dumbledore’s office, but it’s cracked and broken now.”

A strange look flickered across Draco’s face. “You don’t think that has anything to do with his hand?”

“Shh!” Hermione hissed “And really Draco, you shouldn’t be using the spells out of that book. Not until we know more about it!” she shot him a dirty look. The more that the boys had pored over the Half-Blood Prince’s book the more unhappy she had become about their discoveries. “What if there are things we don’t know how to control in it?”

Draco rolled his eyes at her. “You’re a Gryffindor, you’re supposed to be adventurous!” he snapped. 

Ron chimed in. “And besides, we’ve tested all the spells before we use them. They’re safe Hermione. Some are even fun!” His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

Just at that moment Professor Sprout walked by, eyeing the group critically. Harry scrunched up his face and attacked the Snargaluff plant in front of him, reaching desperately for a pod as the others beat it back. 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long after the Snargaluff pods that Professor Slughorn announced his Christmas party. All of his favourite students were invited, which by this point comprised a rather lengthy list. Harry had managed to avoid the “Slug Club” parties since the Hogwarts Express, but this time was unhappy to find himself without an excuse as the event approached. 

“You need to ask someone soon,” Hermione was admonishing him. “Don’t you see the girls looking at you? They’re all hoping you’ll ask them so that they can go with the Chosen One.”

Harry grinned in amusement. “I’ve never been popular like this before.”

“Watch yourself, Harry. Do you see that girl over there? That’s Romilda Vane. I heard her talking to Padma Patil the other day about slipping you a love potion. Just- don’t eat or drink anything unless you know no one else has touched it, alright?”

Harry nodded in agreement. “What about you? Who are you going with?”

“Oh,” Hermione mumbled. “I meant to ask Ron, but since the Quidditch game…” Harry nodded in understanding. After the Gryffindor team had beat Slytherin Ron had snogged Lavender Brown in the common room. Now the two were dating. 

“You know, I don’t think Draco has anyone yet. Maybe you could go with him? Then that’s both of you sorted.” 

Hermione brightened at the suggestion. “Harry, that’s a brilliant idea! I’ll ask him about it in Ancient Runes. But what about you?”

Harry smiled. “Actually, I have an idea.”

* * *

Slughorn’s Christmas party was barely tolerable. Draco had gratefully agreed to go with Hermione, and Luna was happy to be Harry’s date for the evening. Slughorn had insisted on dragging the four students around the room, introducing them as his favourites to the many other guests he had gathered for the occasion. Harry had already pulled Luna away from a vampire with a hungry look in his eyes and stopped Draco from another explosive argument with Blaise Zabini when Slughorn dragged the two boys up to Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic.

“Rufus, have you met these two fine young men?” Slughorn asked, a note of pride in his voice. “Two of the best in their year, in fact, in the school! I’ve rarely come across minds as bright as these. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Rufus Scrimgeour!” 

Harry glanced around distractedly, searching for Hermione and Luna. Finally he spotted them, deep in conversation with Professor Trelawny. He started to move towards them, stopping abruptly when he felt a hand close around his arm. 

“Ah yes, I’ve heard a great deal about these two,” Scrimgeour said as he held onto Harry’s arm. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to speak to them. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, would you mind coming with me for a moment?” He followed Harry’s gaze towards the two girls. “I promise to return you to your lovely dates shortly.”

Draco shrugged as he followed Scrimgeour into the hallway. Harry trailed behind, a worried feeling settling deep in his stomach. 

“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, Harry,” Scrimgeour said as he stepped into an empty classroom. “A very long time indeed. But Dumbledore has kept you close to him all along.” He turned his gaze on Draco. “You as well my boy. I’ve been intending to speak to you ever since I heard the news of your choice this summer, but I’m afraid that this is the first chance I’ve had.”

Harry eyed the minister suspiciously. Something about this conversation, alone in a dark, empty room, did not feel right. “What did you want to talk to us about?”

“Straight to the point.” A smile played on the edge of the minister’s mouth. “I appreciate a man who understands the importance of efficiency. Well, my boys, here is where we stand. These are difficult times for all of us. People are feeling discouraged and afraid. And they can’t be blamed. Hope is hard to find in situations like these.” He paused and surveyed the boys. 

“Your point?” Draco drawled. Harry recognized his tone of false confidence.

“A small ray of hope has at last fallen upon us.” Scrimgeour stared deeply at Harry. “Rumours abound that you are the Chosen One. Am I right in believing that you have discussed this with Dumbledore?” Harry nodded his head curtly and the Minister turned his attention to Draco. “And you, the Boy Who Escaped. Together you are the hope of the wizarding world. The hope that You-Know-Who can be defeated once again, and the hope that we can all escape his influence.” He took a breath and continued quickly. “The Ministry wants to share that hope. It would mean a great deal to the wizarding community if you would stand beside us in this war.”

A suspicious look crossed Draco’s face as Harry contemplated this idea. “What exactly are you asking us to do?” Harry asked.

“Nothing burdensome, I assure you. The Ministry most certainly does not wish to interfere with your studies. Just that you would drop by once in awhile, and that, if you should be asked, you would declare your support for the Ministry. Perhaps a short article in the Prophet in the near future as well.”

“And what if I don’t support the Ministry?” Draco asked. “What if my beliefs never changed? What if I still think that Mudbloods are beneath the rest of us, but don’t have the guts to actually hurt anyone?” A look of alarm passed over Scrimgeour’s face.

“Support the Ministry?” Harry blurted out. “Didn’t I hear that Stan Shunpike had been taken into custody? Is he still being held? Has the Ministry actually done anything to find out if he’s guilty, or is he being held completely on suspicion?” He turned to Draco. “Is Stan Shunpike a Death Eater?”

Draco shook his head as a mirthless laugh escaped his lips. “Of course not. Never has been, never will be. I doubt they’d even Imperius him.”

Harry looked back at at Scrimgeour. “See? Was that so hard?”

The minister took a step back. “I’m afraid that the Ministry must make difficult decisions at times, decisions that you may find it difficult to understand.”

“I think we understand you perfectly.” Draco’s voice was icy. “And neither of us is interested in being your poster boy.” Harry nodded in agreement. 

Scrimgeour screwed his face into a look of contempt. “You would deny the entire Wizarding community hope out of your own selfishness?” 

“No. But I won't pretend to support anyone who hurts innocent people.” Harry looked expectantly at Draco. 

“I would be more likely to support the Ministry if I actually was a Death Eater,” Draco said with a shrug. “They have spies everywhere. For me to go there would practically be suicide.”

“A regretful choice, I’m afraid,” Scrimgeour said, his eyes cold. “You could make a true difference to the people, and yet you choose not to.”

“No,” said Harry, turning towards the door, “We choose not to be used.”

Luna and Hermione were standing near the door when Harry and Draco returned to the party. 

“Where were you?” Hermione asked, concern written across her face. 

“The Minister wanted a word with us,” Harry answered in a half-whisper. “He wants us to be his mascots. He didn’t like our answer much.”

“My father says the Wrackspurts have been whispering to him,” Luna said. “He’s not the man he once was.”

Draco sighed. “I don’t know about Wrackspurts, but he has been listening to Death Eaters. They’ve been in the Ministry for ages. I gave Dumbledore all the names I know but I’m sure there’s others.”

Hermione glanced around at the party. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I’m tired, and Cormac McLaggen won’t leave me alone. As soon as you two disappeared he came over and tried to pull me behind a curtain to snog him.”

Harry felt his blood boil at this. “Where is he? That disgusting git!” Draco’s face twisted into an expression that was equal parts anger and chagrin.

Hermione sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Come on, let’s just leave.” She grabbed one arm of each boy and hauled them out the door.

Luna stifled a yawn as they walked down the hall. “It’s later than I thought,” she mused. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Draco glanced at his watch. “I’ll come with you.” He turned to Hermione and gently grasped her hand, the picture of dignity. “Thank you for accompanying me tonight. I had a lovely time.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m glad that we could go together. My only other plan was to ask McLaggen, and clearly that would have been an awful choice.” Her smile turned to a grimace.

Harry told Hermione about their conversation with Scrimgeour as they walked back to Gryffindor tower. 

“You don’t think he was threatening you?” she asked as the Fat Lady came into view.

Harry paused for a second. “I don’t think so. He was just angry that we wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

Hermione said the password and the portrait swung open. The common room was still fairly busy as students spent their final night together before heading home for the holidays. Hermione spotted Lavender sitting on Ron’s lap by the fire and made a quick excuse to disappear to her room. 

Harry was headed towards the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, eager to change out of his dress robes, when he heard a voice call his name. He turned around to see the girl Hermione had called Romilda Vane holding something out to him. 

“These are for you, Harry,” she twittered. “I’m going home for the holidays, but I’m not leaving until the day after tomorrow. What about you?”  
Harry took the box of chocolates that she was shoving into his chest. “I’m staying here,” he answered awkwardly. 

Romilda beamed at him. “Well, Merry Christmas! Enjoy the chocolates!”

Harry muttered out a quick thanks and hurried up the stairs. He looked at the box in his hands, remembering Hermione’s warning about love potions from the week before. He threw the box into the bottom of his trunk.

* * *

 

The next afternoon marked the departure of the Hogwarts Express for the holidays. Except for Harry and Romilda, whose parents would be picking her up in Hogsmeade the next day, Gryffindor Tower was empty. A few Ravenclaws stayed, including Draco. The Order had made the decision to keep Harry and Draco at school over the holidays for the sake of safety. Though the Death Eaters seemed to be leaving Harry for Voldemort himself, it was unlikely that they would have any reservations about attacking Draco on the train or at the station.

With so few students staying Professor McGonagall was happy to give Draco permission to move temporarily into Harry’s dormitory. He settled happily into Ron’s bed. 

The sun was streaming through the window when Harry woke up on Christmas day. He looked eagerly at the end of his bed, where a stack of gifts was waiting for him.

Harry had opened a pair of hand-knitted socks from Dobby, a used toothbrush from the Dursleys, and was just biting into Mrs. Weasley’s nut brittle when Draco woke up. He glanced groggily at Harry before shuffling to the end of his bed and grasping a lumpy package. 

“What is this?” Harry paused, a pair of mittens from Hermione still half-wrapped in his hands. Draco was holding up a deep blue knitted sweater with a grey letter D across the front.

“That’s from Mrs. Weasley,” Harry answered with a smile. He held up a lumpy package that he assumed was his own. “She makes them for all of her kids.”

Draco traced his fingers along the letter knitted into the sweater, and then pulled it over his head. He turned back towards the pile of presents at his feet, but not before Harry saw him brush a tear away from his cheek.

Harry pulled open the rest of his presents. He received a large Chudley Cannons poster from Ron, a box full of pranks from Fred and George (so new they weren’t available at the store yet!), a large amount of candy from Draco, and some chocolates from Lupin.

Draco looked content as he surveyed the presents around him. He had also received a pair of mittens from Hermione, as well as chocolate from Lupin. Harry had given him a book of interviews with famous Seekers, and Ron had sent him some candy. Fred and George had sent him a box full of Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats, accompanied by a note saying ‘For escaping boring classes and annoying Dark Lords.’ He had laughed at that.

Most interesting was a small gift that did not come with a note. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, with no marking to tell where it had come from. Draco frowned and shook it.

“I don’t know if I should open this,” he muttered. “What if it’s some kind of trick?”

Harry nodded in agreement. “It does seem suspicious. Maybe we should take it to Professor McGonagall.”

Professor McGonagall wasn’t in her office so Draco took the suspicious box to lunch, where they found her sitting at the staff table.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” she called as they entered the room. “It is nice for you to make an appearance today. I noticed that you missed breakfast.” Despite her words a hint of a smile played on her lips. 

“Professor, could we speak to you for a moment?” Harry asked. 

“Of course.” Professor McGonagall followed them into the empty entrance hall. “What is it, boys?”

Draco held the box out to her. “This came with my Christmas gifts. It isn’t labelled. I thought it would be best to make sure that it isn’t anything dangerous before opening it.”

“A very prudent choice.” She took the box from him and shook it gently before pulling out her wand. She muttered several spells before handing the box back. “As far as I can tell there are no concealed charms, hexes, or curses on this. In the interest of safety you should open it here.”

Draco carefully pulled off the wrapping and opened the box. A pair of cufflinks glittered inside.

Harry gasped. “Who could have sent you cufflinks?” Draco didn’t answer. Harry looked at his face and was surprised to see that he was blinking back tears. “Draco? Are you alright?”

Professor Mcgonagall pointed her wand at the open box and repeated some of her spells. Finally she withdrew it. 

“They are quite safe, Draco,” she said gently. “It would seem that they were truly sent to you as a gift.”

Draco gently pulled the cufflinks out of the box. He examined them as he twisted them in his hands. “My mother,” he said softly. “She always gives me cufflinks for Christmas.”

Suddenly Harry understood the expression on his face. “Why don’t you change into something you can wear them with?” He gestured at Mrs. Weasley’s sweater.

Draco looked up as he dropped the cufflinks back into their box. He shook his head. “No. I like the sweater. Maybe for dinner.” He smiled, a real smile that lit up his face, and rubbed his hands down the sweater. “I’ve never had anything personal like this before. I can barely believe it’s real.”

For Christmas dinner that night the house tables were moved away and replaced by one smaller table. The students and professors remaining at Hogwarts celebrated well into the night.

* * *

Hermione returned to school already prepared with timetables for revision. She forced one onto Harry and was pleasantly surprised when Draco readily accepted one. She did not give one to Ron. They had barely spoken since the night that he had snogged Lavender in the common room.

After their first Apparition lesson Harry pulled his friends into an empty classroom to tell them the results of his latest lesson with Dumbledore. Hermione stood as far as she could from Ron, clearly unhappy to be forced into the same room as him. Draco pursed his lips as Harry explained the need to get an unaltered version of one of Professor Slughorn’s memories.

“I’ve heard of Horcruxes before,” he said. “There was a book about them in the Manor library. They’re really dark magic. My father was furious when he found out I’d read it.”

“What are they?” Harry asked.

“A horcrux is when a wizard splits his soul and hides a piece of it in something else.”

Hermione gasped. “What do you have to do to split your soul?”

Draco frowned. “Kill someone. There’s some incantation too, my father caught me before I could get that far. They’re almost impossible to destroy, but if a wizard has one he can’t be killed, not unless his horcrux is destroyed too.”

“That must be how Voldemort survived!” Ron blurted out. “He must have a Horcrux somewhere!”

“Of course he does,” Hermione said irritably. “But I’m sure Dumbledore already knows that. The real question is, what else was in Slughorn’s memory that you need to know?”

“I guess I’ll have to find out,” Harry answered. “But if even Dumbledore couldn’t get it from him, how am I supposed to?”  
“You could ask him after class,” Ron suggested. “You’re his favourite. Use the Half-Blood Prince to do something really great, then ask about Horcruxes and see what he says.”

Draco glared contemptuously at Ron.  “That’s the most stupid, Gryffindor thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Ron challenged. 

Draco shook his head. “You’re going to need to be cunning for this, Harry. I might be in Ravenclaw now but I still have all the Slytherin traits. We’ll figure something out. Just don’t be stupid and ask him straight out, that’ll put him on his guard.”

Hermione scowled. “Speaking of the Half-Blood Prince, I found something in the library. Harry, you said the book was published 50 years ago? Well, I looked back through the old school records, and there was a woman named Eileen Prince here about that time.”

“We’ve been over this, Hermione,” Ron said. “A woman wouldn’t bother calling herself prince.”

Hermione glared at him angrily. “Shut up Ronald!” she exclaimed, taking a step towards him. “What I was getting to is that there’s more! I found a mention in the newspaper, that she married a muggle, and later another one that mentioned her having a baby.” She relaxed a little as she faced Harry, blocking Ron out of her view. “I didn’t find her married name, but the book could have belonged to her child.”

Harry nodded. “You’re right, it could have. See? There’s nothing unusual about that!”

Hermione shook her head forcefully. “You have no idea what kind of person he was! I still don’t think you should be using that book!”

Draco stepped in between them. “Look Hermione, Harry likes that book, and it definitely seems to be helping him. Obviously this Prince was very good at Potions, better than whoever wrote the textbook at least! And maybe you’re right and not everything in it is safe. I’m sure Harry will be smart and not use anything that looks dangerous or too much different than the original recipe. Right Harry?”

Harry nodded again. “He’s right Hermione. I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise.”

Hermione sighed. “Fine. Just be careful, okay? I still don’t trust that book.”


End file.
